


Lest Thy Covet

by hristferrinas



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: F/M, M/M, Romance, Slow Build, Supernatural Elements, Warning: Graphic Violence Involving a Child
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2017-11-27 15:59:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 43,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/663859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hristferrinas/pseuds/hristferrinas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Izaya Orihara must find someone worth loving above all others, or risk losing what he values most: his immortal soul. His humanity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jar of Hearts

Kabukichō, the city that never sleeps.

Awash in the crowd, letting the tide of humanity determine his pace as he made his way to his destination, Izaya Orihara indulged in the one pleasure he could never get enough of. 

Human observation, surely, was the reason he existed.

Ikebukuro was without a doubt Izaya's best-loved city, despite being the nesting grounds for almost all of his natural enemies. Shizu-chan, Celty, Simon; it seemed like all of the people who could interfere with his plans congregated into one place. Then again, perhaps that was part of Ikebukuro's appeal. Really, it was the best city, always with something interesting taking place, with events even he couldn't predict. It had just the right mix of people to keep things interesting. People there set themselves up like dominos, just asking for someone to come along and give a delightful little push. 

But on this night, Izaya chose to conduct his business in Shinjuku. He was unwilling to chance an encounter with Shizu-chan, the hateful protozoan having an uncanny ability to track Izaya down once he stepped foot onto Ikebukuro pavement. Izaya was adept enough at avoiding the monster when he had a schedule to keep, but Shizu-chan was unpredictable to say the least. And this was not the time to get caught up in a life-or-death chase through the city night. 

It was early evening, the night pleasantly cool. The bright lights from the surrounding buildings beckoned patrons into the warmth of various bars, night clubs, shops, restaurants, and love hotels. The chatter of humanity filled the streets accompanied by a symphony of footsteps, rumbling engines, tires squealing on pavement, laughter and movement. Life.

Hands casually tucked into his jacket pockets, Izaya made his way into the little hole in the wall that was the agreed upon meeting place. The bar was almost empty, with a few patrons here and there, most of them too drunk by this point to even recognize themselves in the mirror. While inebriated humans were interesting in their own right, mostly because in that state they'd willingly divulge almost anything if he applied a little charm, that wasn't why he was here. At a table in the back corner, hunched over an untouched glass of something alcoholic, was his source.

Hisano Amagi was an old, shrewd woman with some very unique contacts. Contacts Izaya was unwilling to deal with personally, thus the middleman. Her black hair had a light dusting of gray, and her skin was wrinkled with age. But her eyes were as keen as ever, and she glanced at him interestedly as he sat down across from her.

"Hisano-san," he greeted pleasantly, flashing her a smile meant to charm. "I hope this place was easy for you to find. Most people just walk by without ever realizing this place even exists." 

She regarded him for a moment, dark brown eyes taking him in, before she smiled, hand absently curling around her glass. "Why yes, it is one of those places that are impossible to find unless one knows exactly where to look." Her voice was a bit raspy, but not unpleasantly so, and held a hint of amusement. "But I must say I am a bit surprised, Information Broker, you are much younger than I imagined you'd be." Certainly much too young to have amassed what he had, be it his network of information, his money, or his enemies, she thought. This young man was certainly not what she had expected. 

"Yes, well I get that a lot," he returned. Usually with a contact, client, or source, Izaya liked to poke at them a bit, see what additional information he could gleam, what feathers he could ruffle. Find out the best method for pulling their strings. This was important, however, and he couldn't risk losing what he came for, couldn't risk her getting up and walking away because he pushed just a bit too far. 

He could still feel it, even now. The phantom ache from the long healed stab wound in his abdomen. A reminder of his mortality.

"Do you have it?" He cut to the chase. There wasn't an ounce of anticipation in his voice, despite its presence in his heart.

Hisano sighed, young people were always so impatient, before she reached under the table and grabbed her purse. From it she withdrew a glass vile filled with red liquid, and when she presented it to the young man, he took it carefully, relief in his like colored eyes for only a moment before it was gone like it never was.

Izaya examined the vile, and after finding nothing lacking, he pocketed it, planning to transfer it to a sturdier, more portable container as soon as possible.

He reached into the inner pocket of his fur lined coat and produced an envelope filled with the money owed. Hisano took it, counting the bills inside before nodding in satisfaction and depositing it into her purse. Her eyes found his.

"You know my dear, it certainly isn't everyday that someone asks me to retrieve such a token. And it's a good thing indeed, as they rarely allow outsiders to take part in their gifts."

"Do they now?" Izaya said agreeably, masking his complete disinterest, eager to leave and make sure his purchase was taken care of. "Well then, how fortunate I am to have asked someone capable of such a feat, given how unlikely its success."

Hisano laughed. "Oh, I don't think it was me that convinced them." Her eyes sparkled before turning sharp, her gaze measuring as she looked at him with renewed interest. 

Izaya didn't understand, and he didn't care to. He had no interest in non-humans, no interest in monsters, no love. As long as she completed her job, he didn't care. Ideally he would make no such request as this, but circumstances gave him few options. He needed a contingency plan, and this was simply the best option available.

After a few pleasantries, or pseudo pleasantries in Izaya's case, they left the bar and parted ways. 

As she walked home, the dark of the night welcoming, Hisano Amagi couldn't help but frown, worry wrinkling her brow. Perhaps she should have warned him. That young man, that information broker, he didn't even realize, did he?  
Izaya Orihara had a lot more to worry about then whatever was occupying his mind on this night, of that she was certain. She could definitely feel him at some point during their meeting. She couldn't tell where, just that he was watching, and a feeling of unease slowly stole through her. Making up her mind to warn the boy, Hisano hurriedly made her way home. Her two grandchildren were waiting for her.

They'd still be waiting for her in the morning.

 

**CHATROOM**

**Kanra**  
Good evening! Kanra-chan’s here!

**Tanaka Taro**  
Ah, good evening

**Setton**  
Evening

**Saika**  
Good evening

**Kanra**  
It’s good to see everyone’s alright. I was worried! :-S

**Tanaka Taro**  
?

**Tanaka Taro**  
What do you mean?

**Kanra**  
Didn’t you hear? It’s been all over the news

**Setton**  
Oh, you mean about the recent murders around Tokyo

**Saika**  
How horrible

**Tanaka Taro**  
It is a little scary. And they still haven’t caught the person yet

**Kanra**  
Kanra-chan is scared! I heard that the victims all had one thing in common

**Kanra**  
Their hearts were missing!!!!

 

**Somewhere, In Ikebukuro**

Keiko Sanada was seven years old.

Keiko Sanada was dying.

She came to consciousness slowly.

The carpet was warm against her cheek where she lay, soaked red and sticky, the scent of blood overwhelming. Her chest heaved desperately, slow wet breaths leaving her as every beat of her heart pulsed more and more blood out of her body, the red pool slowly growing around her. It felt like her chest was on fire, the skin burning away into ash. It hurt to breathe. It hurt more than anything she had ever experienced in her short life. It hurt even more than when she broke her arm after a clumsy landing from the monkey bars last year, or when stupid Kenji-kun accidentally kicked a soccer ball straight into her stomach, winding her.

Afraid to open her eyes, she kept them tightly shut, the book of fairy tales she had been reading kept clutched in a death grip in her small hands, cradled against her stomach where she was curled on the floor. Tears of terror and pain dripped from her eyes, and her nose itched from running.

Was…was that man still here?

Keiko strained her ears, searching for any sound that would mean he was still in her family’s apartment. Hopefully he was gone. Hopefully he thought she was dead and left. After a few minutes of hearing nothing, she gathered her courage and opened her eyes. She would have screamed, had she had the breath. Instead, she felt her mouth open silently, twisted in shock, terror, and if the tell-tell feeling at the pit of her stomach meant what she thought it meant, disgust. Body shaking in its entirety, she abandoned the book as she weakly propped herself up on her hands and knees and scrambled away as fast as she could, mindless of nothing but distance until she found herself with her back pressed against the white wall, newly smeared with a child sized imprint in red, her knees bent against her chest and her arms wrapped around them.

She could do nothing but stare, shaking. Sprawled out on the floor, not far from where she fell herself after that…thing got her, was her grandmother. Her head was lolled to the side, face turned toward Keiko, displaying her ripped out neck. Her once immaculate snow white hair was soaked through with red, warm brown eyes now turned sightless in death, but frozen in a look of wide-eyed horror. Her chest was completely torn open, the flaps of skin pushed to the side and the chest cavity completely exposed. She looked like a piece of meat and…the heart was missing.

Keiko slowly stood on shaky legs, leaned over supporting herself with a red painted hand on the wall, and wretched. It all came out red. Eventually she couldn’t heave anymore and Keiko unsteadily wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. What…how…she had to get out. She had to get out! She felt her whole body stiffen, still hunched over, and the hairs on the back of her neck raised as soft footsteps came from deeper inside the apartment. He was coming! With a shot of adrenaline she tried to make a run straight for the door. She was in the living room, it was right there! She took not three steps before her legs collapsed from under her, and she fell hard to the floor with a bang and a grunt. She landed on her stomach, and it felt as if it split open, and the amount of blood pooling around her did little to convince her of otherwise.

“Hahaha.” He was standing over her. The oppressiveness of the shadow he cast felt like death come to steal her away. “To think you’d still be alive. Humans can be so resilient sometimes, even the children.” His voice was deeply happy, and cruel. And it sounded almost as if two people were talking when he spoke, like his voice had its own echo. “Almost like cockroaches.”

The man prodded her side with the tip of a black polished boot, and turned her over so that she was lying on her back. She stared with terror up at him, and wondered, if death were a person, would it look like this man? His skin was deathly pale, and his mouth was stretched into an inhumanely wide grin that touched both sides of his head. It didn’t seem like he had any hair, and he wore a dark bowler hat and a suit. His eyes were a glowing green, and they examined her with amusement.

…

He was holding her book at his side.

Amusedly, his eyes followed the path of hers. “Ah yes, this,” he laughed, raising the book to examine it better. “I do so enjoy fairy tales. You can get a lot of useful information out of them, a lot of false information too.” He opened the book and thumbed through it, stopping at something that must have caught his eye. “Here’s a good one.” He crouched down and held out the book for her to see. It was The Little Mermaid.

His eyes turned sharper, and his forever smiling mouth took on a wicked curve. He seemed almost angry.

“Do you know what makes a human, human? What makes you, different from me?” He closed the book with a sudden snap that had her flinching, before tossing it aside. He then reached into the jacket of his suit, withdrawing a long, sharp blade. Keiko made a sound not unlike a dying animal, tears reappearing in her terrified eyes, racing down her cheeks, her breath ragged. She didn’t want to die! “Now now,” he said, admiring how the light reflected off the blade. “No need to worry.” His glowing eyes returned to hers, and she saw in them death. “Because you see, humans like you never die, at least not really.” He reached out his other hand and laid his palm flat on the middle of her bloody chest. It was freezing cold. “The human soul lives forever. It cannot die.” He withdrew his hand slowly, angrily, and regarded her for a moment. She couldn’t breathe. “So really, you shouldn’t mind if I take your heart right?” He plunged the knife into her chest, into the existing stab wound, and she screamed. She thrashed. Undeterred, he slowly, carefully carved through the child’s chest, one hand holding her still as he tore through her flesh. She didn’t stop screaming until finally, the heart was fully exposed, and he ripped it out with a spatter of blood that stained his suit.

Abandoning the child’s corpse, he carried his prize over to the black suitcase he brought with him for this job. He unlatched the suitcase and carefully deposited the organ into a glass jar nestled inside. After making sure the contents of the case were secure, he cheerfully left the apartment. Whistling a happy tune, he disappeared into the night. “Eight down, five more to go.” Thank goodness he was almost done with this stupid job. Usually he liked to be a bit more creative when taking a wretched human life. This kind of thing just drew too much attention. However, a debt was a debt, and the sooner he repaid him, the better. But still, how interesting it is that it would take thirteen human hearts to be able to steal one human soul.


	2. Feel a Little

In thriving cities like Shinjuku, even after the darkness falls the sky remains alight. From the view out of his floor-to-ceiling window, Izaya can see the glow and glimmer of lights from a city alive. A city full of wondrous, entertaining people. It was comforting somehow, on some days, just the thought of never really being alone. Lately, however, that was not the feeling he got at all.

Unease.

He just couldn’t shake the foreign sensation off. Initially, he thought the feeling stemmed from his short but eventful meeting with Yodogiri Jinnai and the subsequent attempt on his life. Even though Izaya was the type that constantly flirted with danger, he held much value in his own life and feared death more than anything. While the success of the assault took him by surprise, and therefore pleased him in a way, it also showcased the fact that Izaya Orihara wasn’t as untouchable as he liked to think. As much as he’d like others to think. While he was extremely confident in his abilities, both mentally and physically, the possibility still remained that someone could get lucky. There was still the possibility that he could miscalculate. And it could be fatal. He was supposed to feel better after his successful business transaction with Hisano. His acquisition, by now transferred to a small, bulletproof titanium flask, was tucked securely in an inner pocket on his favorite fur lined jacket. He carried it with him everywhere. A second chance, should he ever need one.

But still, the disquiet persisted. As days passed, the foreboding only grew. The feeling was encroaching, pursuing him everywhere he went. Every sense that he had was telling him that something, somewhere, was building. This kind of anxiety was an emotion almost completely alien to him. After all, what was there to be anxious about when you were the one pulling the strings. When all factors were known, and all that was left was to observe the result of them colliding with each other in the most interesting of ways.

From his vantage point, Izaya watched a couple make their way hand-in-hand down the street, two bright lights of humanity amongst a sea of artificial shimmer. They were laughing, and their body language was honest and intimate. He briefly contemplated the merits of a highly complicated but equally amusing plan to tear them apart, before quickly discarding the idea. As a professional Information Broker and a recreational observer of human behavior, Izaya did in fact impose some rules on himself. Interfering with people’s love lives was strictly prohibited. It was too messy, and it led to irrationality, which in turn led to human beings he could not predict. And not in the fun way.

Feeling suddenly, uneasily cold, Izaya decided to occupy his mind with more worthwhile pursuits. He turned away from his window and made his way to his computer. Over the past few weeks there had been a string of grisly, brutal murders. The public was outraged, the culprit seeming to not discriminate when choosing victims. Two had been children and three were very elderly. So far, the police had no suspects and the people’s fear only worsened as the body count grew to twelve.

Someone was going around stealing the batteries out of his favorite toys. Really, it was rude. But despite having a wealth of contacts, not a single informant in his network saw or heard anything. Not a person in Dollars. Not a single person anywhere that he could find. Sure, there were plenty of rumors and people getting spooked by nothing, because hey, there was a heart stealing psycho on the loose. But every lead so far turned up all of nothing. Whoever the bastard was, they were ridiculously good at going about unnoticed. At leaving nothing behind to track. It was like the people were getting killed by a ghost, a nonentity. The lack of information was frustrating, especially with the way he was feeling as of late.

Waking up his computer from sleep mode and pulling out two cell phones, Izaya settled in for another evening of information hunting. Hopefully this time would be fruitful.

 

 

Whistling.

Someone was whistling.

No.

Something.

Celty always knew that if she ever encountered something other, something like herself, she would know immediately. She couldn’t remember how she knew this, that information lost somewhere along with her head, but she just knew that she’d be able to distinguish it.

It was close to midnight, and she was on her way home from delivering a package to a client. Shooter cruised smoothly down the street, weaving through the sparse traffic, the scenery passing by in a blur of color. She was just about halfway home when she heard it.

It was an eerie, haunting sound. Though happy in tune, it was unsettling, the sound making her skin crawl as it echoed around her. She knew almost instantaneously that it wasn’t human. She knew it in her bones. She brought Shooter to a stop at the side of the road and looked around, feeling out with her shadows. Whatever it was, it was somewhere south of her, not too far.

Celty didn’t have a god to pray to, but as she turned Shooter around and headed south to investigate, she prayed anyway.

Please oh please, let it not be an alien!

 

 

She found her target in a matter of minutes, time seeming to speed up in her apprehension. He was strolling casually down a back alley. His dark colored suit would have made him an indistinct figure in the darkness if not for his almost white skin and glowing green eyes. Not to mention that horrible whistling. She brought Shooter to a stop a safe difference away from the man, and the re-embodied horse gave a neigh of warning that she took to heart.

The man had stopped whistling when Celty had come into his line of vision, and he stood there regarding her silently, unreadable, a smile that stretched from one side of his face to the other a permanent fixture. Celty briefly wondered which was creepier. To have that kind of face, or to not have a head at all. It was then that she noticed the blood on him, and she felt herself tense up, ready for anything. She retrieved her PDA with one hand, the fingers of the other itching to manifest her trusted scythe.

_What have you done?_

She knew. She already knew. It made so much more sense now, some of the details of the crimes broadcasted on the news. No witnesses. No leads. Nothing. She formed her scythe quickly, and brought it to bear.

He laughed, the echoing, cruel sound grating to her. “Why Celty, I’m hurt. After all these years those are the first words you think to say to me?”

She flinched, taken aback.

“Oh, that’s right. You don’t remember me do you? What with your head being stolen and whatnot. I must say though, I was quite surprised to hear that you had taken up with a human. I mean really. You? With a human?” He started laughing again, his inhumanly wide mouth stretching with mirth. He laughed so hard tears formed in his eyes, and he wiped at them with a hand. Celty stood there, reeling. “It’s absurd!”

After he calmed, he grew contemplative. “Then again, seems to be in fashion these days.” His eyes traveled back, looking the way he had just come from. When his eyes returned to her, they were serious, all traces of mirth gone. “I don’t really get it personally but…I’ll tell you something useful. Since we used to be friends.”

Friends? They used to be friends? Her and this monster? She couldn’t believe it. She refused to. Celty clenched her hand on her PDA, wanting to refute this. She decided to refrain for the moment, and see just how useful this information was. If he really truly knew her from before, then there were many questions he’d be made to answer before she was done with him.

“You see, I’ve just come back from completing a very bothersome job.” He gestured to his blood spattered clothes. “Collecting human hearts is rather tedious I must say. And just a bit too messy.” 

Celty was shaking in rage. How could he talk about such things so casually? The things he did to those people, the things he did to those children. Was she…was she really ever friends with this guy. If she was…just what kind of person, what kind of monster was she?

“Well, what I’m trying to say is perhaps you should be more aware, especially with your newfound fondness for humans.”

That caught Celty’s attention. _What do you mean?_

“Maybe you should…feel out your surroundings a bit more. You might be surprised by what you find.” 

What? Did he mean her shadows?

He seemed to be waiting for something. When she continued to do nothing, he got frustrated. “Well, are you going to do it or what? I don’t have all eternity you know.”

He certainly didn’t, because in that moment there was a telltale whoosh of air, and in the next a vending machine came flying from out of nowhere and hit him with so much force it snapped his neck on impact. As he fell to the floor, the vending machine crushing him, Celty wasn’t sure if she hoped he was dead or not. On one hand, the guy was a psychotic monster. On the other, she still had a lot she wanted to ask him.

There was only one person she knew that would consider a vending machine a viable weapon, so she wasn’t surprised when a handsome blond man in a bartender outfit followed soon after the flying snack food dispenser.

“Was this bastard bothering you?” Shizuo Heiwajima asked gruffly. Not that he couldn’t figure it out for himself. Even from the distance he’d been from them, he could still see the shaking of Celty’s shoulders, the wavering scythe in her hand. Pissed him off. 

Celty waved an arm in front of her, then quickly typed on her PDA before showing it to him.

_I was just a little startled._

_But I’m fine now, thanks._

Shizuo nodded as she typed more on her PDA.

_What are you doing out here at this time of night?_

Shizuo shrugged, fishing in his pocket for his pack of cigarettes. “I dunno, couldn’t sleep I guess. Just had a feeling something was happening tonight.” He successfully retrieved a cigarette and soon felt the calming rush of nicotine.

Something happening tonight? Celty turned her attention back to the man trapped under the vending machine.

_Could you get this off him? I still have some questions I want to ask._

“Sure. Who is this punk anyway?” Shizuo strolled over to the downed vending machine and lifted it off the man easily. “The Hell?” he muttered around his cigarette, shocked.

Celty didn’t know what to say. The moment the vending machine was lifted, the permanently smiling man’s body shuddered, and they both watched alarmed as his body decayed in a matter of seconds, the skin disintegrating. It decayed until it was nothing. And just like that, the man was gone.

Shizuo dropped the vending machine. Before, even as the man was falling apart, Shizuo could feel those glowing green eyes on him. They were smug. It was one of the most unsettling things he’d ever seen, and his best friend was headless.

Celty was at a loss. For just a moment it seemed like she’d be able to unearth more about herself, about who she used to be when she was whole. And in the blink of a non-existent eye, the possibility was gone. But another part of her was relieved. If what that man had been saying was true, if the two of them had been friends then…perhaps she didn’t want to know.

“So you gonna tell me what just happened?” Shizuo’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

_That guy wasn’t human. More importantly, that was the one responsible for the recent killings around Tokyo._

Shizuo ground his teeth around his cigarette, and he could feel blood pulse in his temple. “So it was that psycho? If I had known I would have done a whole lot more than throw a vending machine at his murderous ass!” The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. But he was gone now, and that gave Shizuo some measure of solace. At least enough to keep him from committing property damage for the time being.

But something was still bothering Celty. Something the man had said. What wasn’t she “aware” of, and what did he mean by “feeling out your surroundings?” And then there was Shizuo, who felt like something was going to happen tonight. Her friend’s intuition was strangely reliable most of the time. Celty chalked it up to just another one of those things that make Shizuo Shizuo. Did he mean this, here? Or something else? It was troubling.

Feeling a bit ridiculous, Celty decided to give this “feeling out” a try. While Shizuo was fuming, the dullahan tilted her helmet down, trying to concentrate. Trying to feel. Trying to sense. Just when she was about to give up, feeling utterly stupid for even giving a thought to that psycho’s advice, she felt it.

What…

What the hell was that thing?!

Why hadn’t she noticed it before? It was almost overwhelming!

Shizuo gave her a questioning look as she hurriedly mounted Shooter.

_Sorry, but there’s something I have to do._

Celty took off in the direction of Shinjuku, going as fast as Shooter was capable. Shizuo could only watch her go.


	3. Psyche

Izaya was getting tired. He could feel the hands of sleep tugging at him, but he shrugged them off, intent on making some progress tonight. The clock at the corner of his computer screen read five minutes to midnight.

There weren’t many people active on the Dollars chat room, but the six or so engaged in conversation were very lively. One of them, “Shuuji-san,” had proved to be a viable source of information in the past, and with a little luck would prove to be useful again. In another window open on his computer, Izaya had compiled a document of all the useful information gathered from police reports and independent investigations and interviews conducted by the press.

While digging into the police database files, Izaya discovered a bit of information that gave him pause. A missing persons report had been filed on Hisano-san, and the date of her disappearance was the day he had met with her. She had never made it home. Izaya made it a habit to dig up as much information as he could on people he did business with. Really, you never knew when a little dirt could come in handy. So he knew without a doubt that Hisano was not the type to up and run off, as odd as she was. And even if she were to get into trouble with one of her unusual contacts, she would have never left her two grandchildren behind. She absolutely adored them.

Her disappearance was worrisome, especially since it was on the day they had business together. While it could be completely unrelated, he couldn’t dismiss the possibility that it might have something to do with himself, or the task he had sent her on. If that were the case…

Izaya sighed, leaning back in his wheeled computer chair. When the back of his head touched the plush headrest, he closed his eyes and breathed. Why? Why was he so troubled lately? He was the unflappable Izaya Orihara. He did what he wanted, meticulously crafted events and situations to make human observation more entertaining, heedless of the consequences and completely ambivalent whether the outcome be beneficial or harmful for the participants. Either way, it had little to do with him. He may have set up the game board, but the pieces acted of their own will.

But these days, he just couldn’t get rid of the sick feeling in his stomach, a feeling that told him things were going to go horribly wrong.

The clock struck midnight.

“Staying up late tonight aren’t we?” The words were breathed into his ear. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

Izaya’s eyes snapped open. In an instant he was out of the chair, hand automatically retrieving his flick-blade and brandishing it out before him defensively as he turned in the direction the voice had come from. His heart was hammering in his chest from the surprise, but Izaya managed to keep a calm face. Who could have got the drop on him like this?

…

There was no-one there. Izaya’s gaze darted quickly around the apartment. Were they hiding somewhere? And if so, how could they move that fast?

“Now now, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He felt the warmth of hands on his shoulders. Trying his best not to appear spooked, Izaya moved to brush them off, only to find nothing there when his own hand met his shoulder. Izaya whirled around and once again came face-to-face with nothing.

“You know, it’s very rude to break into people’s homes in the middle of the night,” Izaya said casually into the seemingly empty apartment, on the lookout for any clues as to where the guy could be. “I know I’m a busy person, but if you wanted an appointment with me so badly, you should have called in advance and made one with my secretary.”

There was soft laughter in response, the sound pleasant, yet dark. “Is that so? It’s a good thing then, isn’t it?” Izaya stiffened as he suddenly felt arms wrap around him from behind, too quick to evade. They hugged him tightly, trapping both his arms at his sides, flick-blade clenched uselessly in his hand. And he could see them this time, the arms clad in a deep black fabric. They brought him back against a body, and he felt a brush of hair as the man propped his chin on Izaya’s shoulder, the point of contact warm. “It’s good that this is not a call for business, but of pleasure.” Izaya bristled, the man tilting his head and pressing a smile against skin.

“Oh? And how is that exactly?”Izaya said dangerously, tightening his grip on his blade. He tried flexing his body, testing the man’s hold, but the arms gave no quarter. The unease he’d been feeling as of late magnified ten-fold, and it settled into his very bones.

“I propose a game,” the man said against his skin. “You like games don’t you? Izaya Orihara?”

Izaya smiled like a dagger. “Depends on the rules.”

The man laughed again and Izaya could feel the vibration it made from their unwanted contact. The sensation made him want to rip off his own skin, just to get away from it.

“If that’s the case, I don’t think you’ll want to play with me. You won’t like the rules at all. So how about a wager instead?” Suddenly the arms around him withdrew. Wasting no time, Izaya turned and lashed out with his flick-blade, intending to drive the man a safe distance away from him. To regain some semblance of control of the situation. Instead, the man easily caught him by the wrist mid-strike. Damn he was fast! Izaya was accustomed to being much faster than his opponents. It was how he managed to come out on top in skirmishes despite his lack of physical strength. This did not bode well. With one arm caught, Izaya hurried to produce one of the many throwing knives he kept on his person. Just as he was about to let it fly, the man pulled back the sleeve of Izaya’s shirt and gripped his wrist, skin on skin. One moment, Izaya was about to imbed a knife in the guy’s thigh, and in the next he was crumpling to the floor like a ragdoll, his grip relinquishing and the blades falling uselessly to the ground with a clatter. Izaya felt boneless, couldn’t move. It was like every single ounce of energy had been drained out of his body.

As he laid there on his back, completely immobile, the intruder gazing down at him with an unreadable expression, Izaya began to feel the first inklings of fear, an emotion that typically found him very tough prey to catch. He didn’t even have the energy to give a misleading smile, could only hope that his eyes didn’t give him away. Well, at least now he could assess the guy. The intruder was a man who looked to be in his late twenties. He had a medium, slightly muscled build, and he was dressed in a black button-up dress-shirt, with like colored slacks. He’d be considered handsome by most, with short reddish hair and an attractive face. His eyes were a standard brown.

The man smiled and moved to stand over him. “Sorry about that, but I need you to hear my terms.” As the man spoke, feeling was slowly beginning to return to Izaya, and he realized that whatever the guy had done to him, it wouldn’t last long. He was hyper aware of the location of his blades. If only he could speak, then maybe he could buy enough time for this immobile state to wear off. He wouldn’t make the mistake of letting the guy close enough to touch him again.

“You see, first I’m going to take something from you. Nothing important really, just your soul.” The man’s smile turned wicked and something flashed behind his eyes. If Izaya had any doubts before, now he was absolutely certain. This was no human. For just a moment, for just an instant, the man’s eyes had turned completely black. Izaya struggled with himself, willing his body to move. Non-human or not, this bastard wasn’t taking anything from him, least of all his soul. He played by his own terms.

The man held up one finger. “And you will have one year to get it back. Well, allow me to clarify. It’s impossible to reclaim a soul after it’s lost. So in order for you to win this game, to win this wager, you will have to find a human who will love you above all others, and you them. Only when these criteria are met will you be able to become fully human again. If you can find this person, should there be this love, then they will bequeath unto you half of their immortal soul, and your life will continue with theirs into the next.” The man’s face turned serious, and he crouched down close to Izaya. “But should you lose this wager, should you be unable to find someone in one year,” the man reached out and cupped the side of Izaya’s face. Izaya almost flinched, and he decided to take that as a good thing. Only a matter of time before he could sink a knife into this thing’s gut, certainly before his soul got stolen and no, he was not panicking, certainly not.

The man smiled like a secret. “Then I will make you into one of us. Then you shall be mine.” Izaya watched in disbelief as the man’s hand disappeared into his chest. It didn’t break skin or anything, just phased through like something incorporeal. “But I warn you. Should you die while without a soul, that will be it. You will cease to exist. So be careful, no?” As the man’s hand withdrew, it emerged from his chest holding a shimmering, glowing, translucent deep purple butterfly.

Was…

Was that what his soul looked like? As his consciousness faded, Izaya could have sworn just before his vision faded to black, he saw Celty. The thought shouldn’t have felt as comforting as it did.


	4. You Can Never Go Back

Celty didn't know whether to feel surprised or not when Izaya Orihara's building came into view as she followed a trail of unmistakable power. The closer she got to the source, Shooter picking up speed after they rounded a corner, the more she could feel the blatant display. She could feel it underneath her skin, fluttering. She knew, like a long forgotten memory pulled forcibly into awareness, exactly what it meant.

Stay away.

Reaching the building in a screech of tires, Celty hurriedly left her ride and entered the building. What was going on? Why was such a being here? For what? She doubled her pace, swiftly climbing the stairs, the power in the air guiding her like a beacon. Not that she needed it. She was all to familiar with this building, with who dwelled inside it. What she didn't know was how in the world her lover's best friend got himself involved in something of this magnitude. And at the moment she wasn't of the mind to guess. Truthfully she was scared. It was a different fear from the one she held for the White Motorbike. It was different from her fear of aliens. For the first time that she could remember since she woke up to find her head stolen away, she felt in fear for her existence. Whatever it was, she thought-no, she knew that it had the capacity to take her life.

She should turn around. Whatever was going on, the information broker had probably brought it on himself. After all, she certainly had no love for him. She could barely stand his presence. Shizuo, her closest friend, hated his guts and for good reason. Izaya was the type of person who used people and then threw them away once they ceased to be entertaining. And he seemed to take great joy in the adversity of others. The only reason she even tolerated him was because…the same reason she continued forward.

Shinra.

She could still remember the day when Shinra first brought Izaya home with him. At the time, Celty had thought that he looked like a good student. She quickly learned that she was badly mistaken. Izaya may have been a smart student, but good, never. But still, Shinra never brought friends home before. Celty suspected and worried over the possibility that it was because he hadn't any. Shinra was…unique. After they became a couple, during a late night of confessions, Shinra had told her that the reason he had made a friend and brought him home was for her benefit. So that she wouldn't worry about him. She couldn't help but think, out of all the people to choose from at his junior high, why Izaya Orihara? Why reach out to him? She figured it out later. When, after all these years, despite her obvious disdain for Izaya, despite her disapproval that such a person be called a friend by Shinra, the weird thing they call "friendship" continues. And Celty would much rather it didn't. She has never stated it outright, but she doesn't have to. Shinra doesn't have to read her PDA to know what she's thinking most of the time, and certainly not to know what she's feeling. And the almost anger that shakes through her whenever Shinra Kishitani refers to Izaya Orihara as a friend-there is no way that Shinra could miss it. Shinra's friendship with Izaya, even though it may have started that way, isn't for her benefit. It can't be. And if it's not for her, then it's for him. It's for Shinra. Celty has long come to terms with the distinct possibility that Shinra's one genuine friendship is with Izaya. But Izaya hasn't thrown him away yet, and that's the only reason Celty hasn't bound the information broker with shadows and dropped him in front of Shizuo. And it's the reason she's racing towards Izaya's apartment even though every inch of her body is screaming at her to run the other way.

Had she a heart, it would have been beating its way out of her chest as she rounded a corner and came to Izaya's door. Whatever it was, she could feel its presence terribly on the other side. Before she could think twice about it, Celty lifted a leg, and with supernatural strength she kicked in the door. It crashed loudly inwards, falling to the floor with a bang.

For just a moment she saw him. He was crouched down, hovering over Izaya's immobile form on the floor. He was holding something strange and pretty in his hand, but she couldn't make out exactly what it was from the distance as she was just breeching the entryway. He looked up at her, and she felt her whole body seize up.

His eyes were completely black, and she felt terror like she never felt before as the energy in the air doubled. Before she could do a thing, she was hit. The power she had felt so keenly suddenly coalesced into a tangible blast that sent her flying through the doorway. She didn't even see him move. The force of the impact stunned her, more so when she hit the wall, plaster crumbling around her as she slid to the floor. The pain of the blow was crippling. Celty dimly realized she was bleeding, her stomach ripped through at the point of impact, shadows like black smoke flowing from the wound as her body attempted to heal itself. Chest heaving, Celty slowly got her legs under her and shakily rose from the floor. The pain quickly dissipated as her body completely healed, the wound closing up and leaving no evidence that she had ever been hurt in the first place. The perks of being a dullahan.

Before she could do anything but stand, the power emanating from inside Izaya's apartment vanished. Celty hesitated only briefly before venturing back in. He was gone. Still feeling uneasy, Celty quickly looked around the apartment before rushing to the fallen information broker. He looked to be unharmed, breathing normally but…there was something off about him. His skin was a bit paler than usual, but that wasn't it. Celty quickly searched him for injuries, and upon finding nothing, she tried to wake him. Reaching out a hand, Celty gently shook his shoulder. He didn't so much as twitch. He was out cold, and Celty found herself worrying that something was really wrong with him, beneath the surface of what she could see. Who knew what that thing had done to him? She had to get him to Shinra.

If you included her helmet, or if she had a head on her shoulders, Celty and Izaya were pretty much the same height, so she didn't have as much trouble carrying him down to Shooter as she would have otherwise with someone of Shizuo's height. Sure she had the strength, but carrying something that much longer than you is awkward. It was half past midnight, so the apartment complex was thankfully empty of curious onlookers. Still quite shaken, Celty wanted to get home to Shinra as quickly as possible.

 

 

He was dreaming.

Or at least Izaya thought he was dreaming. Because last time he checked, cats didn't talk. Nor did they stare at him like that.

He was standing in the dark, outside, with nothing but the glow of the moon's light. It was beautiful, that moon. But even with the light of the moon, he couldn't make out his surroundings in the least. It was all dark shadows. He could only see the cat.

The cat just sat there on its haunches, a little ways in front of him, staring at him like it expected a response for what it had said. For some reason, Izaya couldn't remember what it had spoken.

The cat, a white little thing with intelligent green eyes, opened its mouth and spoke again.

"You can't go back."

Izaya could only stand there for a moment, dazed and a bit slow in the way that only dreams can make you. "What?" he asked.

"Once you've been 'touched' there is no going back," the cat said.

Izaya had always liked cats, such contradictory creatures. They were affectionate, comforting, and playful in one moment, then indifferent, elusive, and predatory in the next. But this cat…he didn't like this cat.

"What do you m-?"

"I'm sorry."

Izaya blinked. He was becoming more and more disoriented, something tugging at his consciousness.

"What are you talking about?"

"I can't help you," the cat continued, "not with this. No one can. You must save yourself."

Izaya was suddenly hit with a wave of dizziness, his vision blurring.

"We'll meet again," the cat said.

And suddenly, Izaya woke up. His eyes snapped open.

...he didn't feel right.

He was dimly aware of Shinra coming over to the bed he was resting on, hovering over him, saying something about three days. He tried to shake off his disorientation.

Something was terribly wrong.

Something was missing.

He tried to remember how he got here. He could tell from the familiar interior that he was in one of the extra rooms in Shinra's apartment, one that the underground doctor used to treat clients. But why was he here? He found his hand coming up to rest on his chest, and suddenly he remembered.

…that bastard…his soul…

Izaya abruptly sat up causing Shinra to quickly move out of the way so they wouldn't knock heads. The doctor blinked, shoving his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, as they came askew with his quick maneuver to avoid bodily harm. Izaya immediately became dizzy, swaying slightly before Shinra steadied him with two hands on his shoulders.

"Easy there Izaya, you shouldn't sit up so fast. You've been asleep for three days." Shinra procured a small flashlight from his pocket and proceeded to shine the light in Izaya's eyes, watching for pupil dilation.

Izaya winced as Shinra examined him, his eyes more than a little sensitive. "How did I get here?" he asked, groggy. The last thing he remembered was that man and…right.

"Celty brought you here," Shinra stated, dropping the flashlight back in his pocket. He gave Izaya a troubled look. "How are you feeling. You were asleep for three days, nothing would wake you up, and yet I couldn't find a single thing wrong with you?"

"I feel fine," and Izaya did. But he also felt wrong. Like something was missing. Not that he'd tell Shinra that. He needed to get out of here, find out what that guy was, what exactly had happened to him. He needed information.

Shinra gave him an appraising look, "So what happened. Celty was pretty shaken when she brought you in. Said some interesting things about a man with black eyes. Only she doesn't think it was a man." On most occasions, Shinra would usually express a giddy interest in all things supernatural. It was one of the many differences between the two friends. But this time however, Shinra didn't seem happy at all.

Izaya studied his blanket clad lap, wondering what to tell him, if anything. It's not like it was any business or concern of Shinra's.

"What did it do to you?"

Izaya's gaze shot up at that, noting the strange look in Shinra's eyes. "What makes you think it did anything to me? Besides put me to sleep, that is. Hey, maybe it was the sandman!" Izaya forced a laugh, preparing to hop out of bed.

"It almost killed Celty, you know?" Shinra spoke quietly, the strangeness in his voice stopping Izaya from moving. "When she came to help you, out of the kindness of her heart."

Izaya was surprised. Something that could almost kill Celty? She was immortal, wasn't she? Then again, that man…and Izaya shuddered just thinking about him. At the memory of those lips smiling into his skin, at the reminder of that hand disappearing into his chest and taking from him. At what could possibly happen should he lose this little "wager" he was unwillingly drawn into.

Shinra must of noticed his shameful reaction and continued. "She said that whatever it was, it could have killed her if it wanted to." Shinra studied him intently. "Could it?"

Izaya sighed.

"I don't know," he admitted.

"What did it do to you?"

"I don't know," he lied.

"Do you know what it was?" Shinra asked, growing aggravated. "What it wanted? Do you know anything, oh so knowledgeable information broker? Did you do something to piss it off and drag me and Celty along for the ride?"

Now Izaya was getting aggravated. He was out of the information loop and sometimes Shinra could push his buttons like no one else. Well, except maybe his sisters. "Don't act like this has anything to do with you. And I certainly didn't ask your girlfriend to get involved, she did that on her own." He quickly got out of bed, taking note of the borrowed sleepwear he was wearing, probably from Celty. Like he needed any help from that monster. He spotted his clothing, neatly folded on the dresser.

"Well, like it or not Celty got involved, and now I am too," Shinra muttered, watching as Izaya made his way over to his clothing. Shinra let out a breath, the anger leaving him. Before making his way out the door and leaving Izaya his privacy, he called over his shoulder, "I was worried you know. We both were."

As he left, he could hear Izaya mutter under his breath. "Yeah fucking right."


	5. Game On

After changing, instead of heading to Shinra's living room and into an imminent interrogation by the underground doctor and the headless wonder, Izaya opted to make his escape out the window. The apartment was several stories up, but for a parkour master, getting down was easy.

It was a little afternoon, the sun lighting up the sky. The air of fall was slightly chilly, Izaya grateful for the continued life of his favorite fur-trimmed jacket. When his feet hit the pavement after his descent, Izaya quickly made his way through the people littering the streets and headed to a side alley. This was Ikebukuro after all, and Izaya didn't have time to play. As he traveled, Izaya fished his cell phone out of his pocket and quick-dialed Namie.

His secretary picked up after the second ring. "Still alive I see," Namie said. "The broken door almost got my hopes up."

"Ouch Namie-san. Is that any way to treat the one who signs your paychecks?"

"That's the third time this month I had to replace the door. At this rate, you might as well have the repair man on your payroll."

"Hmm." Maybe he should put him on.

"You wouldn't have to if you stopped pissing off the wrong people."

"But where's the fun in that?" Izaya asked. "Besides, would you believe me if I told you I was innocent this time?"

"Probably not."

"Such little faith," Izaya paused. "Is it safe?"

"Nobody touched it. The only thing I found missing was you. Where have you been the last three days?"

"Oh Namie, if I didn't know any better I would say you cared."

"I care about getting paid. If I don't get a paycheck I can't take care of Seiji."

At the mention of Seiji Yagiri, Izaya knew it was time to end the conversation, unless he wanted to get caught up in Namie waxing poetic. While Namie was a stern, no-nonsense woman ninety-nine percent of the time, her younger brother was the one thing that could drag the school girl out of her. And Izaya had heard enough about the wonders of Seiji through their time spent in each other's company. As fascinating as the transformation was from a strictly observational perspective…

"I'll be back within the hour. And make me some food, I'm hungry." Namie hated cooking. It was too domestic for her. The only one she was willing to cook for was her brother.

"I'm not your maid."

"Consider it practice for your beloved Seiji-kun."

"Whatever." Namie hung up.

Satisfied that the head wasn't compromised, and after riling up Namie, Izaya's spirits were slightly up. There was a hop to his step as he picked up his pace. He really was hungry though. Maybe he should stop at Russia Sushi for some otoro. He could just have Namie box up her cooking for later, with the added bonus of aggravating her.

But no. As much as he'd like to pretend that recent events had no affect on him, he knew himself well. He was rattled. He still felt like something was missing, and unfortunately he knew what it was. He needed to get home, kick Namie out, and regroup. He needed information.

Shortly after his introduction to Celty, Izaya made it a priority to be better informed about the supernatural. While his world was centered around being an observer of the fascinating show known as the human condition, he had to consider the implications of an existence like Celty's. Most notably, the possibility of an afterlife. Izaya was an atheist. He didn't believe in god or his heaven. However, if something like Celty could exist in the world, the possibility was there. The possibility of some kind of existence after death, whatever it may be. Izaya didn't really care, just as long as he still existed. The thought of nothingness after death, the thought of nonexistence. It unsettled him. Now so more than ever.

Over the years, he managed to collect a great number of books that centered around mythology and other supernatural elements. When you're in the business of information, it pays to be well informed. It pays a lot. Through his digging, Izaya was made aware of stranger creatures than Celty. He went through great pains in order to ensure that their paths never crossed with his, the only exception being the demon blade Saika. Saika was much too involved in the affairs of humans, and Izaya didn't like it. Saika could take away people's free will by "loving" them, and the sword wanted to love as many people as possible. Izaya couldn't think of anything more boring than humanity without the freedom of will, and he didn't hesitate to declare war on the wretched thing, including the loveless, disconnected girl that harbored it.

Surely he had to have something on this soul stealer, though nothing comes to his mind from previous study.

 

 

Had he been a man of lesser self control, Izaya would have screamed from frustration. Several large books were strewn about his office. Useless, all of them useless. He ran a hand through his hair and abandoned his collection, getting up off the couch and heading to his desktop computer. He needed information. He needed a loophole, something. There was no way, absolutely no way he was playing this game with that black-eyed monster.

While he found several very vague descriptions of creatures that could possibly be like the one that attacked him, he couldn't test the theory without meeting the man again. And even if he could figure out what the guy was, it likely wouldn't help his situation. According to his research, once a soul was lost, there was no getting it back. Devoured or destroyed, gone was gone. He briefly considered contacting Hisano Amagi, having her arrange a meeting with one of her contacts that just might be able to help him, before remembering that she disappeared. How inconvenient.

Izaya's cell phone buzzed, and he ignored it. Celty had been trying to contact him since he made his escape.

It felt like the walls were closing in on him, and Izaya Orihara wasn't one to be trapped. A terrible feeling in his gut told him that he wasn't going to find a loophole. For the sake of his sanity, he tried to entertain the idea that maybe his soul wasn't gone at all. Maybe it was just a creative trick thought up by one of his many enemies to unbalance him, distract him.

Izaya let out a breath. As much as he'd like to believe it, he knew it wasn't true. Ever since his encounter with the black-eyed man, ever since he saw him pull what looked like a butterfly out of his chest…

He could feel it missing. There was a strangeness to him, one he never felt before. Something he didn't recognize when he looked into the mirror. Something hollow in him, when it used to be full.

A knock at the door pulled him out of his thoughts, and he looked at his security feed to see Celty standing outside his door. His phone buzzed again, and this time he reached over and checked it.

_I need to talk to you about what happened._

_Let me in._

_Don't make me kick in your door a second time._

Izaya laughed softly to himself, before rising to let Celty enter. Such monsters. Was it ever any wonder that Shizu-chan and her were friends?

When Izaya opened the door for her, Celty quickly stepped around him without invitation, making her way into the room proper. Izaya followed her shortly, closing the door behind her.

"So, what can I do for you courier?" Izaya asked with obviously fake cheer.

PDA in hand, Celty didn't hesitate to type out a message and show it to him.

_Why did you leave earlier?_

_It's dangerous to scale a building after a three day coma, especially before you've eaten anything._

_Shinra was worried._

Izaya sighed. There it was, this Shinra being worried thing again. Hilarious, tell him another one.

"Ahh, well I made it home fine didn't I?" Izaya said dismissively, taking a relaxed position on the sofa. Celty sat down opposite him, taking a moment to type out a response before shoving it at him.

_And you've been ignoring my texts._

Izaya shrugged and smiled, Celty bristling in response. Celty took a minute, visibly relaxing before typing again.

_The Ikebukuro serial killer._

At this Izaya perked up. Had there been a break in the case while he was under? Celty took note of his reaction, before she continued.

_He told me that you were in trouble._

_Well, more or less._

Izaya studied the PDA screen intently, surprised.

"What?"

_He wasn't human._

_And._

_He knew me. From before._

Izaya could feel his eyebrows raise.

"Why are you telling me this?"

_I need to know what's going on._

_What do you know?_

Izaya, realizing that he was leaning forward, leant himself back and studied Celty intently. He wondered how much the dullahan knew. How did she come across the Ikebukuro serial killer? Mostly, he wondered if she could help him.

"An exchange of information?" But how much to tell her?

Celty nodded her helmet.

"Then tell me. What happened three nights ago?"

Izaya's full attention zeroed in on Celty as she recounted that night's events, beginning with her encounter with the pale man and ending with her taking Izaya home with her.

"Is he dead? The pale man? Did Shizu-chan kill him?" Izaya asked after Celty finished. She shrugged.

_I don't know. He just withered away. It was strange._

Izaya nodded. If he was dead, there goes a viable source of information. At the very least, the humans of Ikebukuro were safe. For now anyway.

Celty was looking at him expectantly.

"I don't know how he got into my apartment, but suddenly he was there," Izaya begun. "He was fast. Faster than anything I've ever encountered before. And when he touched me," Izaya found his hand wandering to his wrist, remembering the ghost of a touch. "It was like all the energy was drained out of me. I couldn't move." It wasn't a pleasant memory, that kind of helplessness. "I couldn't even talk."

Izaya fell silent after that. Celty didn't need to know everything. The wager, the so called game. He would keep that to himself.

"I blacked out after that," he lied.

_Do you know what he was?_

"Ahh, no, unfortunately. But I've been trying to figure it out."

Celty hesitated, before typing on her PDA again.

_He was over you, holding something when I came in._

_It might have something to do with why you were sleeping so long._

_Do you know what it was?_

Izaya knew exactly what it was, but he didn't want to admit it, not out loud. Really, it was none of her business. She couldn't help him. He didn't want her to. Not from a monster.

"No."

Celty nodded, with a mind to find out.

"If you find out anything more, about the pale guy, about anything…"

_I'll keep you posted, if you do the same._

"A deal's a deal," he agreed. After all, if it came down to it, it might be ideal to possibly have Celty in his corner. Fight fire with fire. Monster with monster. Speaking of which…

"Is it true?" He asked, stopping Celty as she got up to leave. "What Shinra said?"

Celty tilted her helmet in question.

"That you think he could kill you?"

Celty paused for a moment, completely still.

Celty nodded.

Watching Celty leave, Izaya wondered. Perhaps he'd need the might of more than one monster, should he lose the game.

 

 

That night, laying in bed, Izaya came to a decision. He didn't like it, but it looked like his hand was forced. He'd have to play the game. He'd have to participate in the wager. Despite his discontent with the entire situation, despite his worry that he would fail, and the consequences that would befall him, despite his anxiousness…a smile came to his face.

Because when Izaya Orihara played, he played to win.

Game on.


	6. Pro Bono

Half-price day at Russia Sushi was, interestingly enough, a lot like playing Russian roulette. While the first few pieces of sushi could prove to be surprisingly tasty, despite its unknown origins, the next piece could be fatal. Kyohei Kadota stared suspiciously at his lunch plate special. He was pretty sure that sushi was not supposed to be made out of cheese. If that even was cheese. He prodded at another mystery piece with his chopsticks, and it jiggled, before suddenly collapsing in on itself. As he watched it slowly emit a trail of liquid as its last, terrible act, Kyohei decided that he wasn't as hungry as he previously thought. In fact, he was decidedly full.

Erika and Walker ceased a heated debate they were having over who was the best 'Big Sister' type character in their latest 2D obsession to watch the tragedy take place on Kadota's plate. From his place beside him in the booth, Saburo Togusa looked a bit green in the face. He looked down at his own plate like it was a time bomb down to its last seconds. They all silently but unanimously agreed that they shouldn't have let Simon talk them into trying food from his new, experimental menu. Even if it was cheap.

Simon took that moment to approach his regulars. "So, how is sushi? Good, yes? Made especially for you. New from Russia."

Before anyone could answer, a piece of sushi on Saburo's plate exploded, spraying the van gang and Simon with mystery meat shrapnel.

Wiping gunk off his face, Simon laughed awkwardly. "Ahh, needs work still. Sorry sorry, have some normal sushi? On the house."

"That's okay Simon," Kadota was quick to state. "We're full anyway."

"Right," Walker agreed. "Couldn't eat another bite."

"Yeah." Erika said. "Maybe if Walker wasn't Walker, but Allen Walker, then-"

"I don't know," Walker said, eyeing Kadota's plate, and the place on Togusa's where the exploded piece of sushi previously, innocently sat. "He'd have to be pretty desperate."

It was both Kyohei and Saburo's second nature to tune Erika and Walker out when they went on their otaku rants. They couldn't make heads or tails of what they were saying anyway.

Besides, Togusa was still in shock. He was going to eat that piece next.

Kadota's phone vibrated in his jacket pocket, signaling a text. Keeping a worried eye on Saburo, who wore the expression of someone that just had a close encounter with the Reaper, Kyohei retrieved his phone and flipped it open.

…

Was this for real?

"Everything all right Dotachin?" Erika's voice caught his attention, and Kadota realized that he had stood up from his seat. Simon, Saburo, Walker, and Erika were all looking at him.

Simon looked from Kadota's wide brown eyes, to the phone in his hand, and back again. "News is bad?"

Kyohei quickly tried to collect himself. "Sorry Simon, but we've got to go." Simon stepped out of the way as Kadota made his way out of the booth, his friends quickly rising to follow.

Erika and Walker exchanged a look, Erika whispering "Dollars?"

Saburo was just glad to get away from ground zero.

Kadota was a good distance ahead of them, and Saburo and the others hurried to catch up to him. "Oi, Kadota. What's going on?" They made it out of Russia Sushi, the noon sun high in the sky.

When Saburo fell into step with Kadota, Erika and Walker behind him, Kadota turned to face him. The expression on his face left Saburo feeling like he took a plunge in the Antarctic.

"We need to go to the hospital," Kadota stated.

"What? Why?" Walker asked, worry creeping into his voice.

Kadota's gaze met Saburo's for a moment, before sliding away and focusing ahead. "It's Kazutano."

 

 

Ikebukuro was, generally, more accepting of foreigners than most. However, when it came to the more unsavory residents, Kazutano seemed to have the worst of luck. Maybe it had something to do with him being a ticket scalper. Then again, that's how he met Saburo and the others. Friends he could count on in even the worst of situations. Thoughtful enough to bring him a plate when they thought he broke his, and resourceful enough to stage a rescue when they figured out his botched kanji. Crazy enough to track down and accost human traffickers. And all for him.

However, this time they were unable to save him. Kadota stood outside Kazutano's hospital room door, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and eyes closed. Kazutano was only allowed one visitor at a time, and they all agreed that it should be Saburo. Erika and Walker were waiting in the van, making preparations.

It was just a couple of thugs, bored and drunk after a night on the town. And Kazutano was there, a foreigner who spoke poor Japanese. An easy target that couldn't fight back. It was just that simple.

However, what wasn't so simple was the text Kyohei received with the information. It was from Izaya. Just a casual disclosure of information the broker would usually charge for, or keep to himself to use as leverage for a rainy day. Kyohei even got names, three of them and where they could be found on most nights.

And then there was the rumor that the one that got Kazutano to the hospital was the Black Rider. Celty just happened to stumble upon Kazutano? Coincidence? Not in this city.

The question was why. But when Kyohei asked, Izaya sent him back a simple message.

_Consider it Pro Bono._

The sound of the door opening pulled Kadota out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see Saburo emerge from Kazutano's hospital room. He was wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.

"Well?" Kadota asked.

Saburo dropped his arm, revealing bloodshot eyes. He managed a meek smile. "He's gonna be okay. They got to him in just enough time, but it was close."

Kyohei felt relief flood through him, the knot in his stomach lessening just a little.

"So what do you wanna do?" Kadota asked. They had names.

Saburo hardened his jaw. "One way or another, I want to see those bastards in jail. It's just a matter of getting them to confess."

Kyohei smiled slightly, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets. "And how do you propose we get them to confess?"

Saburo's smile turned sharp. "Oh, I'm sure that Erika and Walker will think of something."

**Somewhere in Ikebukuro, Later that night**

Walker opened his eyes.

 

 

Shinjuku Gyoen was beautiful in the fall. The park's maple trees in particular proved quite the sight for locals and tourists alike, with their leaves shifting into a burning bright sea of red and orange.

Izaya walked a steady pace, feet following a colorful, leaf strewn path. The air had a pleasant coolness to it, with the sun giving off more light than warmth. The park was calm this afternoon, with few visitors. It was very peaceful.

Izaya found a park bench and sat down, immediately pulling out his cell phone from his jacket pocket and sending a quick text, before snapping it back shut and depositing it in his pocket once again.

It was October twelfth. It had been ten days since he was attacked. Ten days since he had been challenged. He had until next autumn to win this game. Otherwise…

Izaya let out a breath and propped his chin on his hand, leaning back on the bench.

He had never been in love before.

Never.

Sure, he loved. But in a very general sense, one that included all people. No one person meant any more to him than the next. Without exception. Definitely…

It was something he took pride in, something that set him apart from other people. It was something that allowed him to remain detached and uninvolved in his observations, like a scientist filming a nature documentary.

But that man, or whatever he was, was very specific in his terms. Izaya had to find someone to love above all others. And they had to feel the same way about him. Izaya knew next to nothing about love. At least, he knew next to nothing about that kind of love on a personal level. Romantic love.

Even though he never experienced it himself, he knew it was powerful. In the past he observed. He watched it bring the strongest of people to their knees, and utterly break them apart. Sometimes, it gave the weakest, most pathetic people strength, completely surprising him beyond his expectations. He watched it change people irreparably. It was irrational. It was dangerous. There was a reason why he made it a rule to not interfere in people's love lives.

The whole proposition was daunting. However, Izaya had to admit to himself that there were a few standouts in his life. A few people that held his interest longer than the rest. Individuals that continued to be interesting, even now. Those that have the capacity to keep up with someone like him. Out of that select few, maybe, just maybe there was someone he could come to love in a way he thought he never would, and love him in a way he thought he would never want.

Izaya's phone buzzed, and somehow, he found himself feeling just a bit nervous as he checked the text message from Dotachin. He laughed at his own apprehension, but his voice felt hollow to his own ears. Izaya snapped the phone back shut and put it away again, shaking his head at himself. Really, how hard could falling in love possibly be?

 

 

After paying the two-hundred yen admission fee, Kyohei entered the park, not really knowing what to expect. He texted Izaya that he was in the park, and the information broker texted back where to meet him.

A few days after the Kazutano incident, Izaya contacted him again. Kadota was surprised to see Izaya's name on the screen of his phone as he checked who was calling. It was really unusual.

Despite them having a strange sort of…friendship might be too strong a word for it, but acquaintanceship didn't feel quite right either, back in high school, these days Kyohei never really saw Izaya very often, or spoke to him much. Sure, Kadota would occasionally break up Izaya and Shizuo's fights, and Izaya still found ducking behind Kadota to be an effective Shizu-rampage deterrent, but they pretty much went their separate ways after high school. And while Kadota would sometimes encounter Shizuo on the streets, the two of them never really hung out either. And he saw Shinra even less then Izaya or Shizuo.

Curiosity got the better of him, and he ended up answering his cell.

_"Dotachin!"_

_"Yo, Izaya. Is this about Kazutano? Change your mind and want compensation?"_

_There was silence for a moment. "No. I already told you to consider it Pro Bono."_

_"Since when do you do 'Pro Bono'?"_

_"Since two days ago."_

_"Wouldn't that be a little too much out of character?" Even for someone as capricious as Izaya._

_"Not really."_

_"And how is that?"_

_"Why don't you see for yourself."_

_"…"_

_"I want you to meet me somewhere."_

_"What?"_

_"Say Dotachin, do you remember the class trip we went on when we were second years? The one where we camped out for a week?"_

_"Yes." Technically, the trip was only supposed to last for four days. However, thanks to the combined factors of no cellular service and Shizuo wrecking the bus, they were all stranded in the wilderness far longer than any of them had expected._

_"Do you remember what we talked about?"_

_"I think so, yes." He had a vague idea. They talked about a lot of things._

_"Somehow, I think it's nostalgia. But in any case, we never finished that conversation. I want to finish it. Meet me at Shinjuku Gyoen on the twelfth."_

Kyohei didn't have any plans that day, so he agreed. It wasn't everyday that Izaya called him up, wanting to finish up conversations long past. But still, he couldn't help but be suspicious. While Kadota didn't harbor any feelings of ill-will toward Izaya, he wasn't stupid. In high school he was remarkably good at seeing past Izaya's friendly façade and into his machinations. A few times he even called Izaya out on his plots, though he did nothing to stop it. And because of that, Izaya tended to leave him out of his trickery. That's probably why they were still on good terms.

Kyohei enjoyed his stroll through the park. It had been a long time since his last visit, and he had forgotten how beautiful it got in the fall. According to his text, Izaya was waiting for him over at the Japanese garden. That was on the eastern side of the park. Leaves crunched underfoot as he walked, wondering exactly what Izaya wanted to talk about, and why. Izaya always had an agenda. Always.

Eventually he saw Izaya. The information broker was sitting on a park bench. He looked to be deeply in thought, with his brow wrinkled and red eyes focused on the leaf covered grass.

"Yo, Izaya." Kyohei approached him, hand raised in greeting.

"Ah, Dotachin!" Izaya sang happily, straightening up his posture as he sat on the bench, lips curving into a smile.

Kadota stopped a few steps in front of the seated young man, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets. Izaya gestured to the spot next to him on the bench, and Kyohei took the cue, dropping down beside him at a polite distance.

"Why?" Kyohei asked, turning to look at Izaya.

"Because I wanted to," Izaya answered readily.

"Huh?"

"You were asking about your friend, weren't you?"

"Yeah, but-"

"I have eyes and ears all over Ikebukuro. They tell me interesting things."

"Not that I'm complaining, but why would what happened to Kazutano be an interesting thing for you? Interesting enough to get Celty involved?" Kyohei asked.

"Wasn't that just a coincidence?"

"Nothing's ever a coincidence when you're involved."

"Is that really how it is?"

"Yes."

Izaya laughed. "Dotachin's clever. When did you figure that one out?"

"In high school, after one coincidence too many."

Izaya put up his hands in a sign of mock surrender. "Okay, so you got me. It was no turn of luck. I called Celty."

Kadota studied Izaya, his faint smile. There was something off about him.

"And you say you did it because you wanted to? What is your game Izaya?"

"Why, Dotachin, I'm hurt. Do you really think that everything is a game to me?"

"Have you ever done anything to make me think any different?"

Izaya sighed, looking away. "Didn't I just?"

"Wha-"

Izaya suddenly stood up. "Hey Dotachin, come sit on the grass with me."

"What?"

"Humor me, won't you?"

Kyohei sighed, before heaving himself up off the bench and then settling straight legged on the grass, leaves crunching under his movements. Kadota expected Izaya to sit down across from him, but instead Izaya circled-round to Kadota's back.

Izaya sat down, leaning back-to-back with Kadota. Kyohei could feel his warmth soak through at his back, lessening the autumn chill with the familiar weight. They hadn't sat together like this for a long time.

"This is nostalgic isn't it? High school feels so far away, almost like another life," Izaya said.

"It wasn't that long ago. About six years or so."

"A lot can happen in six years. People you used to know like the back of your hand can change into someone almost unrecognizable," Izaya said. "Sometimes the one you don't recognize is yourself. Or maybe, the person hasn't changed at all. Just your way of looking at them."

Kadota was silent, waiting for Izaya to continue.

"Hey Dotachin, have you remembered yet? What we were talking about back then."

"We talked about a lot of things."

"We did. But lately I've been thinking about one thing you asked me in particular."

"And what was that?"

"I was complaining about how people tended not to like me."

"Ahh, I remember," Kadota said.

Izaya laughed. "You said it was because I deliberately made myself hard to like. And if I wanted that to change, I would have to change too. Otherwise, stop complaining."

Kadota remembered. Shortly after that, Izaya had to dart off because Shizuo started throwing trees.

"Dotachin, you want to know why I really helped your friend right?" Izaya asked, voice sobering. "Well, what if I told you that I wanted you to like me?"

Kadota was silent for a moment. "And why would you want me to like you?"

"Because even I get lonely Dotachin. And lately, I'm tired of being alone."

Kadota pulled away from Izaya's back, and turned his body so that he could face him. Izaya turned to meet his gaze. Kyohei studied the information broker intently, looking for even a hint of deception.

It was strange and unexpected but…somehow, Izaya looked sincere. Something in his eyes, something in his presence.

"You said before that if I wanted people to like me, I'd have to change. I can't promise much, but I'm willing to give being a better person a try, if it means that I don't have to be alone."

"You were fine with being alone before. What changed?" Something flashed in Izaya's eyes, just long enough for Kyohei to identify it, before Izaya managed to gather himself. It was fear. Something had scared him.

"Everything. Eternity."

There was a gust of wind, and Kyohei watched as it picked up the leaves, as it swept through Izaya's dark hair. And suddenly, he had the feeling that they were being watched. He looked around, but they were completely alone. The skin on the back of his neck prickled, and he shook the feeling off.

"You never hated me," Izaya said, and Kyohei returned his gaze to his. "No matter what I did, you never hated me."

It was true.

"Well, what I want to say is…will you give it a try? Will you be my friend?"

It was hard to place the expression on Izaya's face. Kyohei didn't want to call it desperate, but…

"Okay."

 

 

Later that night back at his apartment, after a nice, long warm shower to ease some of the tension he'd been feeling, Izaya wiped some of the steam off of the mirror so that he could see his reflection.

It irritated him. Earlier, when he was speaking to Dotachin about feeling lonely, it was supposed to be a lie. Just an excuse to get Dotachin to consider spending time with him. But after he said it…

He realized it was true. And the truth of it struck him like lightening. He hated its legitimacy. He had no reason to feel like that. Being alone was his ideal. You can't watch over the crowd if you're a part of it. It irritated him. It was weak, a part of him he thought he'd done away with.

Taking a calming breath, Izaya considered himself in the mirror. It was still a bit strange, looking at his reflection now. Nothing was physically different but still, something was off. Something was missing. Strange. He tried not to think about it. So he considered himself for a different reason.

After the hot shower, the pale skin of his cheeks flushed a light pink. His short black hair was even darker when wet, clinging to the sides of his face. He studied himself: his clever, red eyes, his slender body. Izaya knew he was considered beautiful. It helped him on many occasions, luring people in.

Hopefully, it should help him in love too. He made good progress today. But still, love was unpredictable. Almost as unpredictable as a certain someone he knew.

 

_Scratch_

_Scratch Scratch Scratch_

_Scratch Scratch_

What. The. Hell. Was. That?

Shizuo was getting angry. It had been a bad day to begin with. Ninety-percent of the debtors refused to pay when Tom and Shizuo came collecting. In the end that meant that ninety-percent of the debtors took an unexpected flight through the streets of 'bukuro. He hated people who made him angry, because making him angry always amounted to making him violent, and Shizuo hated violence.

That night, all he wanted to do was get a good night's rest. He was more irritable whenever he missed out on sleep, and that was the case from the night before. However, not ten minutes after his blond head hit the pillow, the scratching begin. At first he tried to ignore it. But no sooner did the thought cross his mind did the scratching increase in rate and volume.

Finally, Shizuo threw off his covers and got out of bed, ready to kill something. He opened his bedroom door and entered his living room. The noise was coming from the front door. Feeling his temple pulse, Shizuo stormed over and unlocked the door, wrenching it open. And what he found was…

Shizuo felt the anger leave him. It was just a cat. A white little thing with bright green eyes.


	7. Spontanious Happiness

With the rare exception of a few events involving his difficult sisters, Izaya had by and large managed to keep himself out of situations that could lead to significant embarrassment. Not even puberty fazed him. It was a byproduct of the way he lived his life, from the outside looking in. An unattached, uninvolved observer. The human condition was truly a spectator sport, and Izaya was never close enough, never personally involved enough to really be a part of it. In hindsight, he really should have considered the ramifications of trying to open himself up to friendship, a stepping stone to his forced goal.

It was a week after Izaya met Dotachin at the park, and somehow Izaya found himself in Ikebukuro, at around seven at night, standing outside of the Hyper Lane Bowling Alley. Bowling was, apparently, a favorite past time of Saburo Togusa.

As it turns out, getting on more familiar terms with Dotachin comes with the added requirement of getting on more familiar terms with his entourage. Izaya wasn't sure how Dotachin managed to talk his clique into getting friendly with him, but oh, how he'd love to be a fly (or flea) on that wall.

The chill of autumn was in full force tonight, and Izaya kept his hands in his pockets, trying to eliminate any feeling of anxiety or apprehension he may or may not be feeling at the prospect of their get together. Dotachin's friends were completely abnormal, and he could see, just barely, a darkness lurking in each and every one of them. He'd especially have to be careful around the fujoshi. It was completely possible that she'd spontaneously combust at the first, most insignificant sign of "boys in love."

"Yo, Izaya."

"Izaya looked away from where he'd been casually observing passerby's to see Dotachin, Erika, Walker, and Saburo emerge from the dimly lit parking lot. Saburo had what looked to be a bowling bag slung over his shoulder, and he was cracking his knuckles, an eager look on his face. His face shuttered for a moment, at the sight of Izaya, a look of suspicion passing over his face before eagerness won out, an anticipatory smile stealing his lips.

"Izayan," Erika raced in front of the others and came to a stop facing Izaya, a mischievous smile on her face. "Dotachin told me you've never been bowling before."

"Eh, really?" Broke in Walker, coming to stand side-by-side with Erika. "Never?"

Izaya smiled and shrugged. "I've never had much interest in sports."

"What about parkour?" Kadota asked, elbowing past the otakus. Izaya joined his side as they entered the building, the others following close on their heels.

The warmth of the building was a relief to his chilled bones, and Izaya took a moment to look around. The bowling alley was decorated like it came out of an American movie from the seventies, with rainbow colored silhouettes of bowlers painted on the walls and several glimmer balls hanging from the ceiling. The lighting was dim, with the bowling lanes and pins glow in the dark. The air smelled of pizza, popcorn and pretzels, and the building was filled with the sound of pins being knocked over, people laughing, chatting, and trash talking.

Izaya turned to Dotachin to find him staring at him, probably waiting for an answer. "Parkour was more of a necessity than any kind of hobby. More of a survival skill than anything."

"Well, I think it's romantic," Erika stated, a glossy look coming to her eyes that immediately had Izaya ready to bar from his mind whatever inanities she was going to spout next. "I mean, you and Shizu-" And Walker was covering her mouth with his hand. He did it with an efficiency and exasperation that bespoke of great familiarity with the move. It was probably a mastered maneuver at this point.

"Enough yammering losers," Saburo said, walking up to the counter. "It's about time I beat you all beyond recognition. With bowling."

The others followed after him, Izaya unwilling to fight back an amused grin. He arched an eyebrow. "You're so very sure of yourself, aren't you?"

Dotachin quirked his lips in not quite a smile. "He's never lost yet."

"And I never will," Saburo said confidently.

"Then how about we make it more of a challenge," Walker said.

The observer in Izaya knew by the look on Walker's face that anything he suggested couldn't end well. An experienced trickster can recognize the spirit of mischief in another when it surfaces. In most scenarios, Izaya would find a good spot to watch the chaos unfold, possibly (probably) after fanning the fire a bit. However unlike in most scenarios, Izaya was directly involved and engaged this time. He'd get caught up in the sweep himself. A part of him was curious, but mostly he'd just like to watch the show unfold a good distance away from the explosion radius.

Saburo turned to look at Walker, evaluating. "What are you getting at?"

"Teams," Walker smiled.

"But we don't have an even amount of players," Erika cut in.

"I suck anyway, so I'll sit out," Walker held up a hand to forestall Erika's protest. "Just for one game. Since Saburo is so unbeatable, he'll be on Orihara's team. Think of it as a handicap." Walker held up one finger. "And since I'm so graciously sitting out in the name of friendly competition, losing team has to buy me whatever I want to eat at the concession stand." He pointed over to where a line of people stood waiting to buy food.

"Hmmm," Saburo said with his hand on his chin, considering. He looked over at Izaya, evaluating. Izaya, convinced that Walker knew something that he didn't and not at all happy about it, tried for a reassuring look. Whatever Walker thought he knew, Izaya would be more than happy to upset it. In a friendly way of course, or what would be the purpose of this get together. It was frustrating as he had to repeatedy remind himself not to say anything too damaging, as much as he'd like to unravel Walker's mind right then and there and see the mischief undone and reversed, watch the emotional fallout. However…

Izaya glanced at Dotachin. He was watching his friends with something akin to affection. In high school, Izaya remembers Dotachin telling him that as long as he didn't involve Dotachin and his friends in his plots, he wouldn't try to stop him. He'd let him have his fun. Thinking back on it, they both made good on that agreement. Izaya never really involved the otakus or Saburo, and Dotachin kept Izaya's secrets, the ones that he was clever enough to figure out.

Finally, Saburo nodded. "How bad can he be."

Erika giggled. "Well, he does have great aim, at least with those knives. All-right, I'll give it my best, just like Juvia did when she had to fight for her love against her other self from that bizzaro world."

"But Erika," Walker said. "She lost."

"The battle Yummachi, but not the war."

"Okay," Dotachin cut in. "Let's get our shoes and get started."

They bought a game for four, and five minutes later found the van gang, minus Saburo because he owned his own shoes, and plus Izaya were all wearing tacky, horribly rainbow colored clown like shoes. Bowling shoes. Izaya would feel ridiculous in them if he weren't too busy being amused by how utterly ridiculous serious-faced Dotachin looked in them, holding a green bowling ball that glowed in the dim lighting, cast with the occasional glimmer of light from the spinning disco ball. Izaya surreptitiously took a photo with his cell phone. If Dotachin caught it, he didn't say anything.

Since Dotachin and Erika were the underdogs (according to Saburo), it was decided that they'd go first.

As Dotachin was getting ready for his turn, Walker took it upon himself to explain the basic rules to Izaya. "It's pretty simple. The goal is to knock down as many pins as possible."

Izaya watched as Kadota stepped up to the lane, bowling ball held aloft in front of him and close to his chest. "The more pins you knock down, the higher your score," Walker continued. Dotachin stepped quickly forward, throwing his arm back and then forward, the ball surging down the lane. The ball hit the pins in the middle with a loud crash, all but one fell down. Walker whistled. "Not bad for the warm-up Kadota." Walker turned back to Izaya as Kadota threw another ball, once again missing that one elusive pin. "The first time each player bowls is a warm-up, a practice frame. Then they get up to two balls for the next nine frames until the tenth and final frame, where you can go up to three times if you get a strike or spare. A perfect game is if you get a strike every frame, and then three strikes in the last. By the way, Saburo has yet to do that."

Dotachin waited for the ball to come back around in the return shoot, and Izaya once again paid attention to the way he moved, so that he could emulate it when his turn came around. The first throw left two standing, but he polished them off for a spare with his next throw. It didn't look to hard to Izaya.

Next up was Saburo, who was getting antsy waiting for his turn. He looked much less ridiculous than the rest of them, his bowling shoes a deep black and significantly less clown like. The minute he stepped up to the ball, Erika started heckling him. "Boo, you suck. Miss. You're gonna miss. You're gonna do worse at bowling this round than Tsuna does everything. That's really saying something. Miss."

Izaya caught Dotachin's eyes from the seat across from him. "Is she always this supportive?"

Dotachin gave a small smile. "Believe it or not, but Erika is probably the most competitive one here among us."

Walker nodded sagely. "Yeah, she's more competitive than Hiruma or even Ryoma."

Izaya wondered if Walker and Erika realized that half of everything they said meant fuck all to everyone else. Probably. But they were to eccentric to care.

"But don't worry, she'll go easy on you because you're a newbie, even if you are on the enemy team. Probably," Walker continued.

Like Izaya was concerned about that. Really, how hard could bowling possibly be?

Saburo, naturally, bowled a strike, than it was Erika's turn. Izaya wasn't quite sure because of the lighting, but it looked as if Saburo preened at Erika as he passed her, and she shot him a dirty look in response.

Surprisingly (or maybe not) she bowled a strike immediately after her warm-up. Then it was Izaya's turn. He walked over to the ball shoot and picked a ball that was a weight he could throw (and it may or may not be the same ball that Erika threw).

He positioned his body like he'd seen the others do, and emulated their movements. Then, with a good amount of confidence, he threw the ball. It was on the lane for about two seconds before heading directly into the gutter.

"Ooh, gutter ball," Erika said in a way that was supposed to be sympathetic, but came off sounding way too happy. He glanced icily at her, but she was completely unaffected.

Dotachin coughed and stood up. "Don't worry about it, you've never done this before."

The ball came back around in the shoot, and Izaya grabbed it, trying to keep from getting irritated. It's not like he'd ever bowled before. He was allowed a margin of error, even though he hates losing and even though he has otherwise perfect aim.

As he gripped the bowling ball, Dotachin came up and stopped him by putting a hand on his.

"Here, like this," Dotachin said, adjusting Izaya's grip. Izaya accepted the help, albeit unhappily. Dotachin looked decidedly unimpressed with Izaya's pouting, if a little amused.

"Not even you can be perfect at everything Izaya. It might look easy, but bowling takes practice, the same as any sport."

Izaya blinked. "Did you just imply that I'm perfect in most things, Dotachin?"

Kadota gave a sigh characteristic of the truly long suffering, before moving behind Izaya and adjusting his stance.

"Hardly," he responded, and suddenly Kadota was pressed flush against his back, and Izaya had a moment where his mind went absolutely blank, before speeding up into overtime. "I'm going to take you through the movement," Dotachin said from behind him, his breath ghosting across his ear. He brought an arm around Izaya and placed it so that their arms were aligned, his hand on Izaya's where he held the ball.

Izaya decided it wasn't a bad thing really, having Dotachin's hands on him. His grip was gentle, and Izaya was suddenly feeling twice as warm as he had been previously.

They got about two steps into the windup before there was a sudden gasp, and then in a screech so loud it could echo across continents Erika yelled, "Oh my god, boy's love!"

The sheer volume got the attention of every soul in the bowling alley, including Izaya, who in a stalled, abortive gesture tripped over his clown shoes and took Dotachin down with him. They slid a good two feet down the lane, and the ball went shooting from Izaya's hand and across two lanes. It was with a calm, sort of inevitable horror that Izaya watched as his (and Erika's) rogue bowling ball collided with another, properly thrown one. The runaway violently popped the innocent ball high into the air, where it proceeded to smash, quite fantastically, into one of the glimmer balls, the crash deafening.

The entire bowling alley was deathly quiet.

As Izaya and Dotachin got their feet under them, Walker laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, the sound filling the otherwise quiet bowling alley. "Whoops, our bad."

"You!" The shout rang out from somewhere in the back. Izaya and Dotachin made their way off the lane. Trying to convince himself that he wasn't at all embarrassed, and that if he wasn't personally involved and had witnessed such a thing he would be laughing his ass off like a hyena, Izaya looked to see who had shouted.

It was an old lady, possibly the smallest old lady he had ever seen, and she was moving at a speed that should be impossible for someone her age, raising her cane high above her white haired head and shaking it in Walker's general direction. She looked absolutely murderous. "Walker Yumasaki," she yelled, "I told you to never come back to my bowling alley again after that stunt you pulled last time, and yet here you are again causing a ruckus!"

Goodness could that tiny old lady move! Clearly she didn't need that cane to walk, as she was zeroing in on them like a jet, an angry jet with a cane obviously exclusively used to beat people with. The other bowlers were hastily getting out of her way, lest she turn it on them.

"You won't get away from me this time!" Somehow, Izaya found this situation oddly familiar.

Before the old lady could get within striking distance, Walker yelled, "Run!" and just like that Izaya was filled with an irrational impulse of fear for fast, little old ladies with canes, and he and the others bolted as one. Saburo paused only briefly to retrieve his bowling bag, which was a mistake. The old lady got two good wacks on him before he could flee, and still she chased them, yelling and screaming at the top of her lungs.

Running through the parking lot, still in his ridiculous clown shoes, with Dotachin, Erika, Walker, and Saburo running with him away from a tiny old lady, Izaya couldn't help it. He started laughing. By the time they made it to the van, they were all laughing, Dotachin so bad he was red in the face. That was ridiculous, they were ridiculous. Izaya was wiping tears from his eyes when he realized the old lady was still in pursuit, and he laughed all the harder. Saburo, the only one who got to meet the mean end of her cane was the only one who was able to get it together enough to herd everyone into the van. He started it up and sped out of there as fast as he could.

Later, the old lady would get their faces off of the security footage and add them to the wall of shame. They never went back for their shoes.


	8. Ghost in the Machine

The cardboard cup of green tea was warm in his hands as Izaya sipped from it slowly, letting the warmth of the liquid travel from his lips and rush through his body. It felt good, a spot of warmth on an otherwise frigid day.

October was almost over, and he was sitting at a table outside of his favorite teashop in Shinjuku. People slowly meandered by, huddled in their coats and scarves, and he spent some time observing them, the expressions on their faces, the way of their words and the secret language of their bodies. He wanted to know all of their secrets. He wanted to drag out their humanity in all of its ugliness, expose it to those that kept it so well hidden in the depths of their hearts, and make them face themselves. He loved them.

  It was just about noon, which meant it was just about time. A mischievous smile quirked his lips, and he glanced across the street to where the Parent Teacher Association for the local elementary school had gathered, meeting at a restaurant famous for steak croquets.

Ever since that bastard showed up at his apartment and stole from him, Izaya had felt off. Immediately thereafter, he had been so distracted that he failed to realize he had been neglecting his humans. And sure, he may have told Dotachin that he was willing to give being a better person a try, and he meant it, he really did. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t leak a little information every now and again, and that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the resulting spectacular. Izaya never made a promise of sainthood.

People seated outside the teashop and others passing by all looked over at the restaurant when yelling erupted from the building, followed by crashing sounds. Izaya watched in amusement as a wave of PTA members came out of the building, mostly harried looking housewives and some grade school teachers, followed quickly by one running man. Izaya knew him to be a grade four teacher at the school. The doors of the restaurant flung open after him with a crash, and another man dashed after him, quickly taking the fleeing man down with a flying tackle. More PTA members came out of the building as the two men grappled on the street, many yelling at one another and pointing to the two men on the ground.

And suddenly, more fights broke out among the PTA members. One housewife in particular seemed dead set on pulling out every single strand of hair from the head of another, who clawed at her face in retaliation.

Izaya spared a moment to glance at the faces of his fellow teashop patrons and other people that had gathered around to see what was going on. Oh, the looks on their faces. Izaya just hid his smile by drinking his warm tea.

Within moments the entire PTA was engaged in a free-for-all. One brave onlooker tried to break it up. From the perspective of the other onlookers, it looked like he was swallowed inside a wave of roaring housewives as he was pulled into the fray, three women ganging up on him, one jumping on his back. Then he was out of sight. No one else was brave enough to try after that.

At some point someone called the police but Izaya didn’t stick around to watch them break it up. He went home beaming. People were too easy.

 

 

While Halloween wasn’t as widespread and popular in Japan as it was in other countries, it was slowly putting down roots in Japan over the past decade. Businesses were quick on the uptake, immediately coming out with Halloween themed merchandise and confectionaries. More and more people were participating in Halloween and masquerade parties, and haunted houses were springing up.

Shinra liked Halloween. Because so many people were in costume, Celty was more agreeable to date-like activities, for once not being the only one in the room in a mask. This way they could go out without suffering the attention and whispers of onlookers trying to get a good look at the headless rider. The attention made Celty reticent to even the smallest gesture of affection, but tonight, on Halloween, they could walk hand-in-hand together and nobody gives them a second glance, just two more masked figures in the crowd. 

Shinra couldn’t keep the smile off his face.  The night air was cold, but Celty’s presence beside him chases any discomfort away. The hand in his gives him a gentle squeeze, and he looks over at Celty. She has always been beautiful to him, a woman of otherworldly allure. Tonight she was dressed in a flowing black gown, like the evil, beautiful queen of a dark fairy tale. Her lack of a head was hidden by a full-faced mask instead of the usual masquerade mask that covers the face from the nose and up. It was supported by her shadows, as well as a fair haired wig, the fake hair falling just short of her bare shoulders. He looked at her mask. It was truly beautiful, gold in color with perfect black lips and a wondrous headdress fit for a dark fairy queen.

She would be so much more beautiful without it.  

They were heading to Nishi-Ikebukuro, to the concert hall where a masquerade ball was being hosted by some of Shinra’s more affluent clients. Shinra managed to get invitations for both himself and Celty, as well as a few friends.

The water fountain in front of the concert hall was gleaming in the moonlight, and Shinra’s masked face reflected back at him in the water. He was wearing a mask that was white in color with gold-trim, as well as a black Victorian hat that was attached at the top of the mask and held it aloft. He wore his usual glasses over the eyeholes of the mask.

As they were passing the fountain, Celty dropped his hand and Shinra frowned, the pleasure he got from the simple gesture leaving him. Stupid PDA ruining his PDA.

The familiar sound of Celty’s fingers flying over the keys of the PDA accompanied the rush of the flowing water.

_Shinra…_

Celty was visibly upset, her whole body lined with tension. She looked like she was ready to bolt.

“Celty love, what is it? What’s wrong?”

Her body got even tenser, and then suddenly Celty was pressed up behind him, a hand clutching his shoulder. Her other arm went passed his shoulder, the PDA shoved in his face.

_Aliens Shinra!_

_They’re real!_

_I knew it!_

And then she pointed a shaking finger across the way.

Sure enough, across the street, about four terrifying looking aliens ambled along, having no idea of the distress they were causing a headless fairy.    

“Celty the-”

_We’re being invaded!_

Shinra turned around, taking Celty’s shoulders in his hands and giving a delicate squeeze. He smiled at her beautiful mask.

“They’re just costumed kids Celty.” And as soon as he said it, one of the kids tripped, the headpiece flying off as he fell to the pavement. The other “aliens” laughed at his expense.

Celty relaxed in his grip, her mask angling down.

_Right, it’s Halloween._

_Thank goodness, I thought it was the end._

Shinra laughed and leaned forward to press a kiss on the forehead of her mask. Celty immediately pushed him away, and he could tell she was blushing.

After the thwarted alien invasion, Celty allowed Shinra to take her hand again as they made their way inside the concert hall, pausing briefly to present their invitation at the door. The building was huge, and it was decorated for a ball.

There was a gold theme throughout, with golden curtains hanging over the entryway and beautiful chandeliers putting spotlights on the polished floor. There were tables filled with refreshments, and a small orchestra was playing in the back, people gathering to dance.

There was quite a few people, and Shinra wondered how they were going to find anyone in the masked sea of faces.

“Kishitani-san, Celty-san!” Out of the crowd emerged two people. A male with a simple gold mask and a woman with an outlandish black bat mask with a lot of feathers on one side, and leaves on the other. Shinra recognized their voices easily

“Yumasaki-kun, Karisawa-chan,” he greeted. “How did you recognize us?”

Erika and Walker shared a look, and Celty punched him in the arm. “Owww. Celty my honey, why?”

_If you didn’t want people to recognize you than you should have left your white coat at home._

“But Celty, I am the white to your black, the yin to your yan-ow!” Celty punched him again, and he rubbed at his arm without a trace of discontent. Celty was still holding his hand after all.

No sooner did he have the thought did she drop his hand in favor of the PDA.

_You two look great._

Erika grinned and took a spin in her red whimsical dress. She grabbed Walker’s arm and pulled him a little bit forward. With his red suit paired with a white undershirt and a red tie, the two of them stood out from the mostly black and white clad masked masses.

“Thanks Cel-chi! You look wonderful too. That’s a really beautiful mask. Oh! And thanks for the invite Shinrin.”

Shinrin. That was a new one. He wouldn’t mind at all if Celty called him that, but she was to tsundere, she did not do pet names. Shinra had tried.

“Hey Kishitani-san,” Walker said, disentangling himself from Erika who was starting to flail around Celty and comparing her to some 2-D character. “Have you seen Izaya?”

“Huh?”

“He should be somewhere around here,” Walker said, looking around.

“Why would you be looking for Izaya-kun?” Shinra asked, eyebrows furrowed under the mask. “Did he do something?”

“No, but he and Togusa owe me a free meal and I’m looking to collect.”

“That’s right,” Erika chimed in. “Iza-Iza is a crap bowler, even with Dotachin’s help. We didn’t even get to finish the game.”

“Yeah, but Izaya and Saburo were losing before we had to escape, and a bet’s a bet,” Walker said.

“I don’t know, I think they’re entitled to a rematch,” Erika argued.

“No, they have to honor the bet. I demand free food,” Walker’s eyes opened for a fraction of a second before closing again. “And it won’t be cheap.”

Shinra was having a hard time processing the otaku’s words, more so than usual. By the looks of it, so was Celty.

Celty hesitated a little bit before typing on her PDA.

_Izaya…_

_Went bowling with you?_

_Bowling?_

_With you?_

“Isn’t that what we’ve been saying,” Walker said, Erika nodding and adding “it was fun” before Walker finished with “and he owes me food.”

Erika opened her mouth to argue the point but Shinra cut her off with a perplexed “What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’? Walker asked.

“I mean why?” Shinra said.

“Why what?” Erika chirped.

Shinra could feel a headache coming on. “Why would Izaya go bowling with you?”

“Because he wanted to spend time with us,” Erika said happily. “That’s what Dotachin said.”

Shinra could feel his eyebrows rising into his hairline behind the mask and he readjusted his glasses. Izaya Orihara has never wanted to spend time with anyone. Shinra Kishitani himself, Izaya Orihara’s self professed best friend had in fact never ‘spent time’ with him. He didn’t even spend any more time than what was strictly necessary with his family. And bowling?  

From the corner of his eye he could see Celty typing into her PDA again.

_And he didn’t…_

_Do anything strange?_

Walker frowned. “Well, he broke something, but it was an accident and mostly Erika’s fault.”

“Hey!”

“Izaya doesn’t just ’spend time’,” Shinra said abruptly.

“Huh?” Walker said.

“Izaya. He just doesn’t spend time with people. There had to have been something more.”

Walker smiled in understanding. “Yeah, we thought so too at first, but Kadota-san convinced us.”

Erika beamed at the mention of Kadota, then she started giggling a little. “And Dotachin was right.”

_He was?_

Celty was obviously not convinced.

Erika nodded. “Yeah, and we had a lot of fun. I hadn’t laughed that hard in a long time.” Erika and Walker shared a highly amused smile, clearly thinking of the memory.

“We’re supposed to get together again tonight too, but I can’t find anyone, that’s why I asked you if you’d seen Izaya.” Walker explained.

“Oh! Yumacchi, I think I see Dotachin!” Erika said, pointing at a lone man with a blue and gray wolf mask. Shinra was about to ask how she knew before he spotted the familiar hat. It looked like Shinra wasn’t the only one whose habits died hard.

Erika yanked Walker’s arm and started pulling him away, offering Shinra and Celty a rushed “See ya later” as they left to greet their friend.

Shinra stood there for a while, not sure what to think. Something strange was going on with Izaya. As a matter of fact, there had been something off about him ever since that day Celty brought him home with her, when nothing appeared to be wrong with him yet he wouldn’t wake for days. And it wasn’t something Shinra could really put a word to, it was something about his presence.

After Celty’s recount about what happened that night, he knew something bad had happened to his friend, but he had no idea what and Izaya would not tell him.

And now this. Izaya was…spending time with Kadota and his running buddies. With seemingly no other purpose than the benefit of their company. Like a friend. And they had fun. And they laughed, very hard apparently. They wanted to do it again. Spend time with Izaya.

It was inconceivable. He absolutely could not take it at face value. People like Izaya do not just change out of the blue like that. They don’t suddenly decide they want friends, and if they did, surely they would make use of the one friend they already had. Even if they never spent any time together, not really. They certainly never went bowling.

And that mysterious man…

Celty’s hand on his shoulder brought him out of his thoughts. She tilted her mask to the side.

Shinra smiled at her, took her hand from his shoulder and kissed the back. “Celty my honey, let’s dance.”

He led her to the area by the orchestra where couples were dancing, and gave her a twirl before reeling her back in. They were playing a waltz.

As they danced around the floor, Celty’s beautiful dress twirling with their movement, Shinra felt almost complete happiness. Almost.

Celty, meanwhile, briefly remembered an encounter on a rooftop, and a conversation about change.

 

 

A masquerade party is a very interesting setting to observe people in. With anonymity comes freedom, and humans are more truthful, more themselves than ever when they can experience the world from behind a mask.

Izaya people watched from the fringes of the crowd, delighting in the rare display of humanity. The woman in the black and gold mask, the white, provocative dress; she was very interesting. Izaya recognized her as a fellow patron of his favorite tea shop in Shinjuku, a shy, meek woman. Not tonight. The woman was a liar, and tonight Izaya got to see her true face, her masked face. While masked the woman was bold, and an outrageous flirt holding the rapt attention of four different men. She was very physical too, shamelessly touching here, squeezing there.

There were a lot of people around, but Izaya was looking for a particular few. It was going to be fun figuring them out, if they didn’t give themselves away first, that is. Grabbing a flute of champagne from a passing server, Izaya sedately meandered around. On the dance floor he spotted a masked man with a familiar white doctor’s coat over his tux, and he almost rolled his eyes. The woman with him could only be Celty.

There was a couple with matching gold and red masks, and Izaya easily identified them as Mika Harima and Seiji Yagiri. If Seiji was here, than Namie couldn’t be too far off and Izaya wasn’t in the mood to deal with her. Taking a small sip of champagne, Izaya drifted within the crowd, spotting a familiar foursome that brought an amused smile to his lips. How many people did Shinra manage to get invites for? Or did they come about the invitations some other way?

Instead of the usual mask that tied at the back of the head, Mikado-kun held his mounted mask up by its handle. The half-mask was oddly foreboding, its gold and blue color flattering to his serious eyes. The Saika girl stood awkwardly at his side, not quite sure what to do with herself. Anri wore a white cat mask encrusted with clear, obviously fake jewels, and her black dancing dress both matched Mikado’s dark suit and clung quite nicely to her assets. Every few seconds Mikado’s gaze would dart to her cleavage, and then he would catch himself and his eyes would go huge and he’d blush, darting his gaze around and looking anywhere but at Anri.

Across from them stood Masaomi-kun and Saki-chan. Kida looked to be having fun teasing the nervous couple, and Saki clung to his arm, somehow finding humor in his terrible jokes. Izaya briefly wondered if that was part of love. Masaomi was wearing a white mask with musical notes engraved in gold, and Saki wore a complimenting mask, all gold with black music notes. Saki’s dress was forest green, and Masaomi dressed to match her wearing a green scarf with his dark suit.

Izaya kept drifting, hoping to spot the ‘friends’ he agreed to meet. He especially wanted to have a chat with Walker. He was so sure of the outcome of their bowling night, like he somehow knew that Izaya would be incapable of bowling, and Izaya wanted terribly to know how he came to that conclusion. No one knew more about Izaya Orihara than Izaya Orihara, and even he couldn’t predict that disaster of a night.

“They say that one flap of a butterfly’s wings can alter the course of history,” was said from behind him. “That one flap of its wings on one side of the world can eventually cause a hurricane in another.”

Izaya slowly came to a stop, turning around to see a man part from the masses and approach him, a glass of red wine in his hand. The man was tall, about Dotachin’s height, with white-blond hair. He was wearing the mask of a jester, with hat like pieces connected at the top and curling downward with bells hanging from them. It was a very fine mask, and despite the bells no sound was heard as he approached Izaya with grace. Even though Izaya was sure that he had never met the man before, he sparked a feeling of familiarity, as if they had spoken many times before.

“Yes, I am well aware of chaos theory,” Izaya said evenly, studying the man.

“It suits you,” the man said, gesturing to Izaya’s mask.

Izaya’s mask was black with elegant curves that took the unmistakable shape of a butterfly.

“Does it now?” Izaya asked curiously. “How so?”

The man smiled indulgently in a way that irritated Izaya immediately. “Isn’t that what you do? Like a butterfly, you flap your wings, say a few words, move a few people into place, and set off a chain of events that changes lives.” The man laughed. “Though I do feel sorry for those foolish enough to get caught up in your ripple effect.”

Well, the man obviously knew who he was, despite the mask and the absence of his highly recognizable attire. Izaya had left his fur-trimmed jacket at home in favor of a black, swallowtail suit jacket. He kept his designer jeans, but they shouldn’t have been that recognizable in this crowd. He even left his signature rings at home.

“Who are you?” Izaya asked.

The man smiled in that patronizing way of his, and it set Izaya’s nerves on edge. “That’s right, we’ve never met in person have we, Izaya Orihara?”

Never met in person before…there were several lesser informants and even some clients that Izaya never met face to face with before, but he made it a point to know things about the people he did business with, and that included what they looked like. The only person Izaya had not even an inkling of what they looked like was…

“Shinichi Tsukumoya.”

Shinichi smiled again. “Figured it out have you.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be online twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week?”

“Of course.”

“So what about now?”

Tsukumoya grinned. “You assume that because I am here with you I am not online, but I can assure you I most definitely am.”

Izaya looked at him. He just stood there, a glass of wine in his hand, the other hand resting at his side, with no cell phone or other electronic device visible. “And how do you pull that one off exactly?  Are you in two places at once, or does your brain get internet connection?” He asked doubtfully.

“Can’t figure it out on your own? Well, I would say it is more of the former than the latter, though there is truth in both.”

Izaya gave him a long look, taking the man and his immaculate white suit in, smiling like he knew all of Izaya’s secrets and found every one of them incredibly amusing. The feeling he got when looking at him was familiar, a tell-tell thrill in the pit of his stomach that told him he should be wary with what he was dealing with. And then it hit him. He had always thought that Shinichi Tsukumoya was a handle operated by several different people. Apparently that wasn’t the case. Shinichi Tsukumoya was no human, he was sure of it.

The flute of champagne he took was more for decoration than anything, but Izaya found himself taking a drink. He leveled Tsukumoya with an unimpressed stare.

“So, are you here for the party or am I just special?”

Tsukumoya’s grey eyes regarded him casually, mouth in an almost fond smile.

“ _He_ must really like you.” 

“I’ll take that as the latter, you never did seem the type for parties.”

Tsukumoya smiled patiently. “Indeed I am not. I actually came here to give you a hint.”

“A hint you say?” Izaya raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Yes, I must say I was surprised that you never contacted me after, well, let’s just say after you went through some ‘life changes’.”

Izaya fiddled with his glass, swirling the liquid around. “I wasn’t aware that ‘life changes’ were your area of expertise.”

“There are a lot of things that you aren’t aware of it would seem.” Tsukumoya laughed in response to the glare Izaya shot him. “But luckily for you, you interest me. It’s annoying, because _he_ must have been watching you for quite some time to pull that one off, yet _he_ never came up on my radar.”

Izaya felt anticipation rush through his body, and he gave Tsukumoya his full attention, red eyes locking with grey.

“What can you tell me about him?”

“Nothing.”

“What? I thought you said that-”

“I said I’d give you a hint. I don’t want to make it too easy for you, where would be the fun in that?”

“There is nothing fun about this.”

“Maybe for you. In any case, I don’t know much about _him_ , there’s too much interference.”

“What do you mean by interference?”

Tsukumoya shrugged casually. “Whenever I try to look into _him,_ I get blocked. Someone interferes. I don’t think _he_ is supposed to be here.”

That didn’t make any sense to Izaya. “And what about you. What are you?”

Tsukumoya smiled again. “That’s a tale for another time. Right now it would cost you more than you are willing to give.”

Izaya could have sworn in frustration. This lack of information, he hated it. “So what can you tell me then?” He said evenly.

“Before you came upon your ‘life changes,’ thirteen people were murdered in Ikebukuro.”

“I am well aware of that.”

“Are you now? Well, here’s your hint. The thirteen people all had something in common.”

“No they didn’t. I looked into each and every one of them thoroughly to discern any kind of pattern or commonality between the thirteen victims. There weren’t any. Nothing tied them together.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. You tied them together.”

Izaya paused. “No, I did not. I didn’t know or have any contact with a single one of them. They had no relation to me at all, there is no way I could have missed something like that.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Izaya Orihara, but it does not surprise me that you would miss it. Black butterfly that you are, how could you possibly keep up with all the ripples of your design.”

“I don’t-”

“You’re a smart boy, figure it out. Your soul is gone, and if you can’t figure out the rules of the game you will lose much more than that. I can guarantee you that _he_ has no intention of playing fair to begin with, don’t give _him_ any more of an advantage.”

Izaya caught his eyes and held his gaze. “Why tell me this? Why would you want to help me?”

Shinichi’s lips quirked and Izaya realized for the first time just how sharp his teeth were. “Like I said before, you interest me. I like interesting things.” And with that Shinichi turned on his heel and started walking away. “I have a feeling our paths will cross again real soon. Until then, Izaya Orihara, you know where to find me.”

As he walked away, Izaya had no inclination whatsoever to stop him.

 

 

Shizuo Heiwajima never saw himself as a cat owner. He was more of a dog person, through and through. Dogs were loyal, straightforward and simpleminded, and always happy to see their masters. Unlike certain other animals.

A few weeks ago he opened his door only for a small white bag of fur to dart under his legs and into his home. He had heard about cats adopting people, just showing up out of nowhere and joining the household, but he never thought it would happen to him.

But somehow Shizuo found himself to be the owner of Junko, a small white cat with bright green eyes. She was also probably the strangest cat who ever lived. Shizuo was no cat expert, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t normal for a cat to be so… Junko.

Whenever Shizuo would find himself talking to her about his day, the people he knew, his thoughts, things that made him angry, his feelings; things so easily confided to a pet, Junko would listen. Attention rapt, she would keep her eyes focused on Shizuo as if carefully listening to and considering every word.

One time he could have sworn he caught her reading the newspaper, but he chalked it up to tiredness on his part.

She was affectionate enough and purred like a jackhammer when he rubbed her fur just so, but afterwards she would hide under the bed as if embarrassed.

After he bought a toy with string and flung it about to get her going, all she did was look at him like he had lost his mind.

She refused to sleep anywhere except his bed, and the litter box was a serious sore spot with her. After she’d use it, she would come back and glare at him as if he had committed some great crime of humanity against her. 

Overall, pet ownership was definitely not what he expected it to be. However, having a pet made him realize just how lonely he had been before when it was just him in the apartment. Having a pet made the apartment seem more full somehow, and he didn’t feel quite so lonely. It was nice.

Celty had invited Shizuo to some Halloween party, but he decided against it and opted to make it a night in. Last Halloween some punk kids decided to piss him off by dressing up like him and acting obnoxious. Their impressions of him were not at all flattering, and later he wondered if that was how the citizens of Ikebukuro truly saw him. In the moment all he could feel was rage, and in return for making him angry he sent them to the hospital.

The chances of the night ending in violence were high tonight, so it would be better if he just stayed in with Junko. Cats were supposed to have a calming effect anyway, and he needed to calm down before he destroyed his apartment in a rage from just remembering those punk kids and their ‘Izzaaayaaaa.’

Just thinking about that flea and his condescending smirk made his whole body tense in anger, his teeth grind and his fists clench. The louse hadn’t been coming to Ikebukuro lately, so at least there was that. The bastard was probably up to something, but as long as he kept his dirty dealings out of Ikebukuro and away from him then Shizuo felt no need to hunt him down at the moment. He needed to calm down.

Shizuo found Junko looking out the window of the apartment near the front door. Sensing his approach, the cat turned to look at him briefly before turning to stare intently back out the window. Shizuo was curious, nothing really caught her attention like that before with the exception of Shizuo himself.

“What’re ya looking at Junko? A bug or something?” Shizuo bent to look out the window alongside the cat. He didn’t see anything besides the usual outside of his apartment.

The feeling came suddenly. Both Shizuo and the cat startled at the same time.

Shizuo had no idea how, but he knew. There was something out there. It was the same feeling he got that night that he and Celty encountered the pale man. He never got to find out the source from where that peculiar, somehow instinctual feeling originated, he’d been distracted by Celty’s distress and his quick-fire temper. But whatever it was, it was back.

Junko was looking at him again, as if considering his reaction. Shizuo reached over and scratched at her ears, fur soft under his fingers, before pulling back and righting himself, heading to where he kept his keys in a bowl by the door. Something was going on in his city, and there was no way it could be good.

He opened the door, and like a rocket Junko was running out, somehow in the direction Shizuo was planning on going.

“Hey!”

 

 

Izaya moved Shinichi Tsukumoya and his hint to the back of his mind where he would think about it later and resumed his search for Dotachin and his friends.

He didn’t have to look very far. There was a tall man with a very familiar hat, and even with a blue wolf mask on he exuded an expression of long suffering as three other people squabbled around him. 

“I don’t owe you anything Yumasaki!” The one in the simple silver mask was obviously Saburo. “We played one round, the bet is void.”

“Ah, this reminds me of that episode of Vampire Knight where-” Erika yapped incomprehensibly to Dotachin, who took a long sip of the clear alcoholic beverage he was holding.

“But it’s obvious you would have lost anyway,” Walker said.

“How is it obvious? I’m a way better bowler than any of you.”

“Yeah, but Izaya is exactly like that character from Night Locke, and that character was the worst bowler ever, so I know that your team would have lost. Life imitates art! 2D triumphs over all!”

“That doesn’t even make any sense!” Saburo continued.

Ah, so that’s why Walker was so sure. Otaku logic.

“I agree with Saburo. We don’t owe you anything,” Izaya said as he approached the group. Somehow Dotachin looked glad to see him. It was kind of sad when Izaya was one of the few that represented sanity in a group. The fact that Dotachin himself was not insane yet spoke volumes about his enduring and patient personality.

“Iza-Iza! Nice mask,” Erika greeted. “We were looking for you.”  

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Erika’s gaze darted between Dotachin and himself, eyes glazing over and face turning red. Izaya did not want to know what she was thinking about, but he did know anyway.

“I was really looking forward to all I can eat sushi,” Walker continued.

“Give it up Yumasaki,” Dotachin said. “There’s plenty of free food here anyway.”

Izaya gave his mostly full glass of champagne to a server as she passed, and Dotachin followed suit giving her his empty wine glass.

“Speaking of which,” Saburo waved a hand at a nearby refreshment table. “Have any of you tried the chocolate-hazel nut cheesecake?” Just talking about it put a dreamy look on his face. One would have thought he was talking about Ruri Hijiribe.

“Cheesecake?” Walker made a face. “Cheese doesn’t belong in cake. That’s just wrong. Almost as wrong as Lelouch when-”

“Have you even tried it?” Izaya asked, his eyes sparkling. He quickly strode over to the table, bypassing several groups of people gathered to chat on his way there. He picked up two plates of delicious looking chocolate-hazel nut cheesecake and a couple sets of chopsticks before returning to Dotachin and the others, quickly handing a plate and a set of chopsticks to Walker who immediately turned his nose up. “There. Free food.”

“Well, I can see why it would be free,” Walker muttered, looking at the cake as if it were a snake spitting at him.

“Just try it,” Izaya said, before breaking his own chopsticks and taking a bite of the incredible smelling cake that he still held. It was velvet in his mouth, and so, so good.

Izaya moaned. He couldn’t help it. Damn it was good. Dotachin visibly startled at the sound, eyes going a little wide, and Erika tittered behind her hand, muttering something about ‘food porn.’

“This is really good,” Izaya said, taking another bite and then moaning again. Goodness.

After Izaya’s reaction, Walker eyed the cake suspiciously, before begrudgingly breaking his chopsticks and taking a careful bite. He made a face that was obvious despite his mask, his mouth grimacing. “Ughh.”

“There is something fundamentally wrong with you,” Saburo said, and Izaya was willing to agree with that statement.

Saburo moved to take the plate from Walker’s unresisting hands but Erika snatched the plate first. “I want to try it too.” She snatched the chopsticks from Walker and fearlessly took a bite. Izaya watched as her eyes lit up, and she held the plate possessively close when Saburo moved to take it from her. “Get your own Saburo. This one’s mine.”

When Saburo looked at Izaya, the information broker shook his head. Saburo sighed and then left them in pursuit of more cheesecake.

While Walker was muttering in the background that nothing was wrong with him, it was everyone else that had the problem, and Erika was demolishing her cheesecake at a truly awe inspiring pace, Izaya noticed Dotachin looking his way.

“Want some?” Izaya smiled teasingly, gesturing with the delicious desert in his hands.

Izaya didn’t wait for a response before he was directly in front of the other man, holding a piece of the cake with his chopsticks up to Dotachin’s mouth.

“Try it. It melts in your mouth.” Dotachin locked eyes with him, and Izaya held his gaze as he leaned his head forward and took the piece of cake into his mouth. Dotachin’s eyes closed at the taste, but when Izaya brushed a smudge of the cake off of his lips with his finger, Dotachin’s eyes shot open again.

Izaya brought his finger to his lips and sucked off the sweet cake, watching Dotachin’s eyes darken.

“Was it good?” Izaya asked.

Dotachin’s eyes darted to the curve of Izaya’s smiling mouth for an instant, before meeting his eyes again. “It could have been better.”

They were close, and Izaya was feeling hot. There was always something just so interesting about Dotachin, and he could never quite figure him out. What he did know was that Dotachin was kind, a good person without a hint of self-righteousness. But despite being good, he had enough dark in him to let Izaya do as he willed, even when he had the capacity to stop him by revealing Izaya’s machinations when he figured them out. And that really surprised Izaya. They coexisted peacefully, even when Izaya wasn’t forced into trying his hand at being a better person for the sake of his continued existence. Even when Izaya was at his worst.

He knew that Dotachin was the type of person to look out for his own, and Izaya inexplicably wanted to be counted among them.

Saburo came back with a plate of cake, and he noticed how close the two were, blinking slowly. Breaking eye contact with Dotachin, Izaya shoved his half-full plate of cake and chopsticks at Erika, who took them a bit dazed, having obviously been witness to their interaction.

Izaya turned back to Dotachin, latching onto his arm like he used to do in high school. “Hey Dotachin, come dance with me,” and he started pulling him over to where couples were dancing a little bit away from the small orchestra. Dotachin made no protest, coming along silently.

When they made it to the dance floor, the lively music the orchestra was playing turned into something much slower and softer. Dotachin took Izaya’s smaller hand in his without hesitation, and they easily settled into a waltz pose, with Izaya’s other hand coming to rest on Dotachin’s shoulder and Dotachin’s other hand coming to rest at the small of Izaya’s back.

They started to dance slowly, in a relaxed pace. Izaya couldn’t help but smile a little.

“What?” Dotachin asked.

“Nothing. Just that I should have known you were a good dancer.”

“So you admit that there are things about people you don’t know?”

“I admit to nothing. Just who do you think you’re talking to?”

It was Dotachin’s turn to smile, a small, subtle thing. “I’m not quite sure, but he looks a lot like Izaya Orihara under that mask.”

Izaya laughed, looking at Dotachin’s blue and grey wolf mask, his familiar brown eyes.

“Oh? How can you be so sure?”

“Your eyes,” Dotachin said, catching his gaze. “You’re the only one I know with eyes like that.”

“Red, you mean.”

“That’s not what I meant, but yes, not a lot of people have red eyes.”

“Then what did you mean?” Izaya asked, but Dotachin just shrugged, Izaya’s hand moving with the rise and fall of his shoulders. The both of them continued moving slowly along the dance floor.

“It’s hard to explain. But I could tell immediately that the one in the black butterfly mask was you.”

“And I could tell immediately that the one in the wolf mask and beanie was you. Don’t you ever leave that hat at home?”

“There is nothing wrong with my ha-hey!” Izaya let go of Dotachin’s hand to snatch his hat from his head, exposing Dotachin’s slicked back hair that Izaya had fond memories of from high school. That was probably the last time Izaya actually saw Dotachin without the hat on.

Dotachin somehow anticipated Izaya’s plan to flee with the hat, and with the hand at the small of Izaya’s back he pressed the other man flush against him, his other arm wrapping around Izaya’s shoulders effectively stopping any attempt at escape. “Don’t even think about it. Give me my hat back.”

Since he couldn’t flee, Izaya just shoved the hat into the pocket of his suit jacket. “No. You look better without the hat on anyway.” He wrapped both arms around Dotachin’s waist and leaned his head against his shoulder, relaxing in the embrace. Perhaps he should have stolen Dotachin’s hat earlier.

He could feel Dotachin tense up in surprise at his actions, but he relaxed quickly, resuming their slow movement on the dance floor. “I’m going to get that hat back eventually you know.”

“You can try,” Izaya said, smiling against his shoulder. Dotachin was warm against him, and he smelled good, like mandarin and wood. The arms around him tightened, and before he knew what was happening Dotachin’s hand was dipping into his jacket pocket. Before Izaya could remove his arms from around Dotachin’s waist the hat was successfully retrieved.

Dotachin removed one arm from around Izaya and replaced his hat on his head, a smug look coming to what could be seen of his face. With how close Izaya was to him, with both arms wrapped around his waist and Dotachin’s hand still palming the small of his back, Izaya focused on his lips, slightly opened and showing a glimpse of white teeth and the warm wet inside of his mouth. Izaya licked his lips on reflex, and that seemed to distract Dotachin, the smug curve dropping from his mouth and his eyes dropping to Izaya’s lips, then up again to his red, slightly darkened eyes. They were so close. Izaya could feel Dotachin’s warm breath fanning against his mouth.

Izaya always knew on an observational level that Dotachin was attractive, his face handsome and his body strong. But so what, a lot of people were. Being attractive never meant that anybody was somehow more deserving of Izaya’s attention than anybody else.

But right now Izaya didn’t want to give his attention to ‘anybody,’ he wanted to give it to Dotachin.

Izaya pressed that much closer, and he angled his masked face so that he could press his lips to the tempting line of Dotachin’s mouth. It was a soft, testing press of lips, and when Izaya pulled back Dotachin followed him, their mouths meeting again in a much less chaste manner. Their lips moved together in a wet slide, Dotachin’s arms pulling him closer into his heat and Izaya felt lost to everything except this, this and the warmth pooling into his stomach and the lightness of his chest.

When he felt the wet heat of Dotachin’s tongue lick at the seam of his mouth, Izaya remembered that they were in a very public place, which he was fine with. However, Dotachin also remembered and pulled away abruptly, still staying close but not touching as they both recovered their breath. Dotachin’s eyes were dark, and Izaya wanted to kiss him again, but he knew it would be a bad idea and he also wanted to see the expressions on the faces of anyone who may have witnessed their very public make-out session. At the same time he had a hope, a very small hope that somehow, someway Erika Karisawa had not been witness to what had just happen.

With that hope in mind, Izaya looked around. Most of the people on the dance floor had not noticed, to wrapped up in each other or not stepping on each other’s feet to pay attention to anything else. Just beyond the dance floor, however, a few people were giving them looks, some amused but most of them disapproving. Izaya smiled at them and waved, and they either glared and then looked away or smiled back. One person, who Izaya was sure was a little old lady behind her mask, waved back. Erika was, thankfully, nowhere to be seen.

Izaya turned back to Dotachin. It was a shame they were both wearing masks. Izaya would have appreciated the flushed cheeks that were obviously hiding underneath the guise of a wolf. From the heat on his own face he could tell that the flush hadn’t left him entirely either.

“So,” Izaya said. “We should do this again.”

Dotachin looked at him, as if trying to decipher Izaya’s intention, find out what he was really after, decode his endgame. Izaya would have liked to have one, but as it stood he meant what he said, and for no other reason than the obvious. There was no way that Dotachin was going to trust him immediately, and that was a real obstacle when love was what he was looking for, but hopefully time would tell.

“We should,” Dotachin finally said.

 

 

Somewhere in Ikebukuro, a man waited in the darkness.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

He grinned at the familiar voice, a wicked curve of his lips.

“And you shouldn’t stick your nose into business that doesn’t concern you.”

“Any business that you have here concerns me.”

He looked down at her with contempt. “You forget your place.”

“My place is here, as it has been for many years.”

“Ah yes, caretaker of the little humans, guarding them against your own kind. How quaint.”

“You forget that it was your own father who commanded me to do so.”

“I forget nothing.”

“Then why do you do this? Your activity here is criminal, if you were anyone else I would have the authority to-”

“But you don’t,” he interrupted. “And even if you did, you and I both know that you could never take me. The only reason you are aware of what’s going on in the first place is because I willed it, and no other reason. Otherwise you’d be going along your business, with no clue of what was happening in this fascinating city.”

She stared at him suspiciously. “And why would you want me to know?”

“Well, I decided I’d be kind. Your brother so dearly longs to see you.”

“See me dead you mean.”

“Of course.” His smile turned murderous and she tensed. “But don’t worry, I’m quite sure he would like the honor himself.”

“I can’t undo what you did, but I can make sure you honor your contract.”

“Can you now? And how is that?”

“I-” the sound of an approaching voice interrupted her.

“Junko!”

The man laughed, the sound cruel. “Looks like your master is calling you.” And before Shizuo Heiwajima came into their range of sight, the man was gone.

“There you are you stupid cat.” When Shizuo finally came upon her, he looked around. “Geeze, you ran all the way to Kadota’s apartment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks go to everyone who reviewed or left kudos. You kept me going when all I wanted to do was throw my computer out the window and give up. Seriously, this chapter sat at 5k words forever.


	9. The Tree

Saika was singing.

For months now the demon blade had been experiencing a joy so deep that Anri Sonohara would more often than not find herself overcome with an alien, sudden happiness.

And giddy anticipation.

Today was no different, and Anri found the pleasant feeling rushing through her via her parasite nothing short of alarming. Nothing Saika found pleasure from could be any good.

But at the same time, Anri couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit grateful, to experience that kind of joy.

Fighting off an artificial Saika induced smile, Anri wrapped her scarf tighter around herself as she made her way through Ikebukuro’s streets, the soft glow of the sun offering a mild warmth. It was Saturday, and Anri took the opportunity of a day off to take a walk, to try to clear her head.

Ever since the death of her parents, Anri found herself in a state apart from reality. Everything she saw, every person she met existed in a space separate from herself, as if she was looking into a picture frame. She was disconnected from all things, removed.

Saika helped with that. The demon sword could feel love where Anri felt nothing but apathy. It could feel excited, frustrated, and when Saika felt something, so did Anri. And Saika’s emotions served Anri well. Slowly but surely, Saika’s feelings bridged into Anri’s, opening up the girl’s own well of emotions just enough for her to experience an emotion of her own making for the first time in a long time. The joy, as well as pain, and even sometimes total exasperation, of friendship. And sometimes, when she was alone at night, when Saika was quiet and Anri had only the company of her own thoughts; sometimes she thought she might be feeling some kind of love, just a little.

But these days Saika almost never shut up. The parasite would sing joyfully, in no language Anri could understand, and even though Anri was an expert at moving Saika’s voice to the fringes of her mind and ignoring it completely, Saika’s singing was a bit harder to ignore. Or rather, it was hard to ignore the uneasiness that quelled in her stomach as a result. It made her think of her friends, and all the secrets they kept from each other. It made her think of the darkness that recently appeared in Mikado’s eyes, but it also made her think that maybe it had been there all along. It made her think of Kida’s fake smile, and his bright yellow scarf stained with warm red.

Saika started singing on the day the thirteenth victim was murdered in the recent Ikebukuro slayings. The cursed thing hasn’t stopped singing since.

 

Eventually Anri’s wandering around brought her to a park. Without thinking too much, she automatically finds a swing, hands closing around the cold metal chain as she sits herself down and kicks the ground slightly, just enough to get her swaying. Lost in thought, gaze on the ground, it takes a few minutes for the voice of another person at the park to reach her through the fog of her mind.

Someone was crying.

Looking up, Anri stopped swaying and noticed a young woman hunched over on a bench facing away from the swings, her back shaking, one hand clutching something in her lap for dear life and the other hand over her eyes trying to stem the flow of tears. Quiet, broken little sobs escaped the woman’s mouth, almost too quiet to reach Anri’s ears. Looking around awkwardly, Anri found that there weren’t any other people in sight. The woman probably thought she was alone.

Feeling immensely uncomfortable, Anri wondered what to do. The woman probably had no idea that Anri was there, and would probably feel embarrassed about showing her tears to a stranger. At least that’s what Anri initially thought. But something about the woman’s grief got to her, something so obviously raw and painful. It sounded like agony.

Before she could think better of it, Anri found herself quietly approaching the woman, one hand digging into her handbag in search of the handkerchief she kept on her.

“Here,” Anri said quietly, holding out the soft cloth with brightly colored koi fish swimming in painted water. The woman looked up at her in surprise, eyes swollen and painful like she had been crying for ages.

“Thanks,” was the tremulous reply. The woman hesitated briefly before accepting the cloth, immediately dabbing at her eyes, the surprise of Anri’s sudden appearance stemming the flow of tears only slightly.

As the woman attempted vainly to compose herself, Anri fidgeted awkwardly before deciding to bite the bullet, sitting down on the bench beside the woman. The vessel of Saika had very little experience when it came to comforting people, herself included. In fact, her inability to deal with her own grief and trauma was the root and soul of her disassociation from reality in the first place, preferring to shut herself down than to deal with her own emotions.

Still, for whatever reason, she just couldn’t walk away.

They sat there in silence for awhile, the woman grieving but trying to put herself together, Anri a quiet but strong presence by her side.

Eventually the woman found strength enough to find words that weren’t teetering on the edge of being broken. “Sorry, I didn’t think anybody else was here. It’s not exactly go for a stroll weather. I didn’t…” the hand that wasn’t dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief tightened, the sound of crinkling paper catching Anri’s attention, “I didn’t want anybody to see me.”

The woman looked to be in her late teens, maybe eighteen or nineteen, maybe twenty. There was a photograph clutched tightly in her hand. Catching Anri’s look, the woman inhaled painfully. She loosened her vice like grip of the photo, trying to smooth out some of the wrinkles. It was a picture of a teenaged boy about Anri’s age. He was bald, looked sickly, but even so he smiled brightly at the camera.

“My little brother,” the woman said, red swollen eyes fixed unwaveringly on the photograph. “Shinobu. He was a right terror of a toddler, always up to something. But he was sweet too for all he was troublesome, and it was impossible to stay mad at him for long. He got leukemia when he was ten.”

Anri said nothing, just let her talk.

“It was hell for all of us for years,” she sniffled, her composure breaking little by little. “The doctor appointments, the chemo. But Shinobu stayed positive, he was bound and determined to get better,” the woman laughed a little, and it was a brittle, ugly sound. “I think he handled the situation better than me and my parents combined. He was strong, and he fought with a single minded stubbornness that runs in the family.” Here she looked at Anri, tears running unabashedly down her face. “And he won, he got better.”

Anri wasn’t expecting that, and the surprise must have shown on her face.

The woman’s face contorted in grief, and she looked away from Anri, body shaking. “I don’t understand, I can’t understand at all. After everything, after everything we’ve been through, how could something like this happen?”

The woman made good use of Anri’s Handkerchief, burying her face in the cloth, breath short and near hysterical.

“Why did it have to be him? Out of everyone, why did it have to be my little brother? After he fought so hard, for so long. When he never gave up, not once. What kind of monster would do this? What kind of monster would cut out his heart?”

In the back of Anri’s mind, Saika stopped singing for only a moment, a distracted thought skimming against Anri’s consciousness, arcane and fleeting.

It was gone before it started, and at the end of the day, Saika continued to sing ever onward.

 

One week after Halloween, Izaya found himself at Sunshine Aquarium with Dotachin. It was a weekday, so thankfully it wasn’t that crowded. The lighting of the aquarium was dim, the light mainly focused on the subtle illumination of the exhibits, and the pair meandered around, catching glimpses of gaping mouthed fish and funny faced sting-rays.

They spent some time in front of the jelly-fish tank, the soft glow of the bioluminescent creatures a calming sight. 

Kyohei seemed to really like them, and the thought made Izaya smile. Considering the people Dotachin spent time with on a regular basis (Izaya now included in the all but proven combustible mix), it was little wonder that he would appreciate something so hypnotically tranquil.

While Dotachin was a studious observer of the marine life, Izaya couldn’t help his attention from straying from the colorful jellyfish to the strangely fascinating Dotachin.

It was strange, how Dotachin was suddenly compelling in a way that made Izaya want to do foolish things, like steal his beanie just to get his attention, or bother him incessantly while he was trying to read the newspaper. Or anything really, and it was a curious thing, because Izaya realized that he always liked to do so, since the day the two were acquainted. And even stranger still, Dotachin never seemed to mind, not really, always exasperated but somehow fond all the same. Equally strange, but also very much pleasant, was the inexplicable urge to get just a bit closer to Dotachin, the thought of physical closeness causing his stomach to flutter in a good way.

Standing beside Kyohei in front of the exhibit, the room quiet and not many people nearby, Izaya inched a bit closer to Dotachin until their arms brushed. It was stupid, such a small thing to feel such happiness from, but when Kyohei took his hand in his, there was no denying the warmth Izaya felt in his chest.

Aware that the two of them weren’t completely alone, Izaya felt the warmth spread from his chest and spread throughout the rest of his body, and he tried to fight a soft smile off his face. Even so.

When Dotachin held his hand, he held it firmly.

“Say Dotachin,” Izaya said after awhile, fully turning his attention to the jellyfish drifting through the water within the glass cage. “Have you ever heard anything about the immortal jellyfish?”

Kyohei looked at him, brown eyes calm. “Immortal jellyfish?

“Yes. They have the ability to transition from their child state to their adult state and back again. When the adult form ‘dies,’ it reverts back to its child form, as if it were a new born. I guess you could call it eternal youth.”

Dotachin’s brow furrowed a little bit, and Izaya found himself reaching out with his free hand, fingers delicately smoothing out the groove between Dotachin’s eyebrows.

Distracted, Dotachin said, “So it’s like Count D.”

There was shocked silence for a moment, primarily on Dotachin’s part. In his disbelief, Dotachin let go of his hand.

“I can’t believe I knew that.” Kyohei said it with so much astonishment that Izaya burst out laughing, the look of utter disbelief with himself on Dotachin’s face more endearing than it had any right to be.

“Did you just make an obscure otaku reference Dotachin?”

Kadota said nothing, seeming to wait for Izaya’s laughing fit to run its course, looking completely put upon the entire time.

Finally, Izaya got himself together enough to string proper sentences together without succumbing to giggles. “Don’t worry about it too much Dotachin, it was bound to rub off on you sooner or later. I’m sure Karisawa and Yumasaki will happily welcome you to the dark side.”

At Dotachin’s unimpressed look, Izaya smirked. “Who knows, maybe there could be an upside to your new found inner otaku.”

“I am not an otaku. There is no inner otaku.”

“Hmm, well that’s too bad,” Izaya said seriously, leaning in close to Kadota, feeling the other’s breath against his lips. “After all, otakus are ever so shameless when it comes to acting out their fantasies, don’t you think?”  

At Dotachin’s blush, Izaya looped their arms together and started steering Kyohei away from the jellyfish exhibit. “Come on, I want to see the penguins.”

 

 Mind still caught up in a mix of horror at his otaku reference, and flustered from Izaya’s blatant teasing, Kyohei allowed the information broker to drag him along in search of penguins. Their first ‘official’ date together was going surprisingly well so far. As Kadota had learned in the past few weeks, Izaya made great company when he wasn’t going out of his way to be an unrepentant asshole. Sometimes, when Izaya would smile so unguarded and affectionate, Kadota would forget for only a moment just how dangerous he was. Not in body, but in design.

Sometimes he had to stop and wonder if maybe Izaya was trying to lull him into a false sense of security. But no. Kyohei always had an aptitude for judging the sincerity of others. This thing going on between them, whatever it was, it was genuine.  

When they got to the penguin exhibit, some aquarium workers were making a show of feeding the penguins. There were a lot more people gathered here than around the jellyfish tank, and a few excitable children had to be held back by their parents, wanting nothing more than to hug the penguins.

Izaya was still close to Kyohei’s side, unabashedly holding onto his arm. All at once Izaya started laughing delightedly, “Dotachin look.”

When Kyohei’s gaze followed the path that Izaya pointed out with his free hand he saw a penguin. It was wearing a bow-tie. A red bow-tie.

As if in response to Izaya’s laughter, the slightly fancy penguin looked over at them and gave them the angriest look a penguin was possible of giving.

Izaya was almost in tears. “I have to get this.” He pulled out his phone and started to take pictures of the penguin. The penguin seemed to be getting even more agitated, and Kyohei couldn’t help his lips from slightly twitching up at the uncanny resemblance. The penguin even had yellow hair.

Izaya’s sheer delight was catching, his pretty eyes shining with mirth, his face honest and open and beautiful, and when he looked at him, Kadota couldn’t help but feel a warmth envelope him, his heart a quick flutter in his chest, a hummingbird in flight.

Almost automatically, Kadota found himself leaning over and kissing Izaya, a sweet press of lips that was over almost as soon as it started. It was strange, how natural it felt to do such a thing.

Izaya seemed to have the laughter kissed right out of him, surprised and a little flustered, a little blush in his cheeks.

Kyohei could have smiled. Of course Izaya would be the type to blatantly tease in the most inappropriate of places, but Kadota doing something about it was clearly unexpected.

The penguin chose that moment to attack.

Quite suddenly, the penguin maneuvered around the barrier that kept them away from the visitors. Squawking, the penguin rushed them so suddenly that Kyohei fell over in surprise, his beanie falling to the ground. Biting once at Izaya’s ankles, the penguin than immediately dove for Kadota’s hat. Before Kadota could so much as reach for it the penguin was retreating and back behind the barricade, the workers completely bewildered.

Despite getting bit, Izaya was laughing so hard he had to sit down on the ground next to Dotachin, tears streaming down his face.

Feeling somehow outsmarted by a penguin, Kadota was glad he bought more of the same hat. He didn’t think he was getting that one back.

 

That night, a photo was posted in the dollars forum with the title of ‘Dollars member Shizuo Heiwajima spotted at aquarium.’ 

It was not a good week for debtors in Ikebukuro.


	10. Luck

Saburo Togusa was finished. It was only a matter of time. As soon as Izaya figured out a fail-safe plan to ruin him with Dotachin none the wiser, the fool was done for.

As of yesterday, Izaya was officially ordained ‘bad luck guy’ of all things sport. According to Saburo, no matter what the sport, if you hang out with, see, or talk to Izaya on the day of the game, the team you root for will lose. When making this proclamation, the Ruri Hijiribe fan even produced a paper chart with colored graphs as proof. Apparently there was a direct correlation between the amount of interaction with Izaya and the point margin of the loss.

After reviewing the evidence, Walker and Erika promptly agreed to the Izaya ban on game days. Dotachin, entirely too amused, agreed for at least this time, if only for the sake of science.

So, even though it was only a friendly practice game, Dotachin and the others were out watching the Saitama Seibu Lions play the Hokkaido Nippon-Ham Fighters, and Izaya was strategically uninvited.

For the slight, Izaya dearly wished that the Seibu Lions, the team that Dotachin and company were rooting for, suffered a catastrophic loss just to spite them.  

Irritated, Izaya accessed the old files he compiled in relation to the Ikebukuro murder cases, fingers tapping the computer keys slightly harder than necessary.

Namie was eyeing him from her desk, meticulously sorting paperwork, the knowing gleam in her eyes also annoying.

On top of everything else, Tsukumoya Shinichi’s words took to circling around in Izaya’s mind, refusing to vacate no matter how much he tried to wrangle them to the back of his mind.

_“That’s where you’re wrong. You tied them together.”_

_“Your soul is gone, and if you can’t figure out the rules of the game you will lose much more than that.”_

As much as Izaya had decided to win the game, he couldn’t ignore the very real possibility that there was more to it than what the man had decided to reveal. Would coming to love someone, and be loved above all others really guarantee a win? And how exactly did the Ikebukuro murders tie into everything, as Tsukumoya so implied? The only thing he knew for sure, based on the little information Celty provided to him, was that the murderer was a supernatural being, and very aware of what was happening in Izaya’s apartment the night his soul was stolen.

Furthermore, Tsukumoya made it very clear that Izaya’s opponent wasn’t so keen on abiding by the ‘rules,’ whatever those may be. Not that Izaya was exactly a rule follower to begin with, but being unaware of the truth of them made it very hard to break them, at least with any intention.

Sighing internally (he wouldn’t give Namie the satisfaction), Izaya once again endeavored to decode whatever it was that he was missing. If he couldn’t figure out what exactly had happened to him, or more so the how of it, than he didn’t stand a chance. It was difficult to win a game when you didn’t know the rules, or how the opponent might go about bending them. A master at setting up game pieces himself, he knew all about the dangers therein.

While he still maintained that there was no commonality between the victims, Izaya had to admit that quite a few of them were more interesting than most. Yori Tsukino, a middle aged salary man on the surface, was actually a fence. When he was younger, he did a lot of international traveling and was even a triathlon winner. Rokuro Maki was a cutting edge software developer, and after a lot of digging, Izaya found out that he was working on a secret project for the Nebula Corporation (or not so secret anymore). An investment broker, a housewife, a young gang member, a journalist, a college student, a cancer patient, an eight year old child, a petty crook, a financial advisor, a go-getter, and a grandmother.

Thirteen, both an unlucky or lucky number depending on who you asked.

Somehow, the grandmother was especially interesting. Akemi Sanada, found dead with her granddaughter Keiko. Her name popped up on a lot of witness reports throughout the years, usually strange killings and seemingly unprovoked acts of random violence. Always at the wrong place at the wrong time (or maybe the right place at the right time, for her). If she were still alive, he would have loved to unravel the mystery of her. Maybe he still would, for curiosity’s sake.

Work life, home life, hobbies, activities, circumstances, accounts by loved ones, accounts by enemies, psychological profiles. After several hours of research and making absolutely zero progress in the way of relating any of them to himself in any way that could mean something, Izaya got the impression that perhaps he was looking at this from the wrong angle. Maybe whatever it was that connected these people, to each other and to himself, wasn’t something that could be found from studying the subjects, or even those around them.

When you’re talking about the subject of souls, what exactly are you looking for? And how to go about finding it? His collection of mythology books from around the world proved worthless the last time he went through them. Theology wasn’t any help either. Nor could he find anything in the lesser known, stranger accounts of history that he could find. So what else was there? Tsukumoya definitely knew something, but aside from being an incorrigible smug tip-off in the most uncooperative way imaginable, he refused to divulge anything more on the subject. If only Izaya could figure out where he lived…

For a good three minutes Izaya could feel Namie’s eyes on him, but he was resolved not to let her sidetrack him with whatever petty complaint about his ‘strange behavior’ or another ‘what are you up to, really’ accusation. Eventually, the sound of papers rustling distracted him from his train of thought and he glanced over to find Namie gathering her things. Wondering if the time got away from him, Izaya looked at the clock. It was only a little past noon. Fixing his attention back on Namie, Izaya smiled with a false charm that he knew she hated. “Leaving a little early today don’t you think? Hot date?”

Eyes scornful as always, Namie shouldered her purse and picked up the remaining files on her desk. “I’ll finish these at home.” She glanced at the computer screen on her desk and then flicked her eyes back to Izaya. “And I’m not the one with a hot date.”

As Namie headed to the door, a sharp knock was heard and before Izaya could pull up the security video feed on his computer to see who had come calling, the door was open, Namie brushing past Dotachin on her way out.

 

It was only for a moment, but as Kadota entered the apartment, Izaya’s secretary gave him the strangest look in passing. It wasn’t a look he had ever gotten before. It was a look of re-evaluating disbelief. It was a look that said, “Just who are you?” and “how did you do it?”

Shaking off the strange encounter, Kadota entered the recently familiar apartment, making his way over to stand before Izaya’s desk, the information broker giving him a most unimpressed look.

“What are you doing here?” Izaya said, propping his elbow on the desk and supporting his head with his hand. “The game can’t be over yet.”

Kadota shrugged. “Seibu was so far ahead by the time I left there’s no way Hokkaido can make a comeback. Besides, I wanted to see you.”

“Oh, you wanted to see ‘bad luck guy’ on game day?”

Even though he shouldn’t have, Kadota found it impossible to keep the amusement off his face. Out of all the things that Walker, Erika, and Saburo have said and done, this was what got to Izaya.

“Does it really bother you? You don’t even like sports. You never want to come with us in the first place.”

“Of course it doesn’t bother me,” Izaya said quickly.

“Uh huh, could have fooled me,” Kadota said, trying to keep a somewhat serious face. “It’s the ‘bad luck’ thing, isn’t it?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I am completely unbothered. And if ever something was to bother me, it certainly wouldn’t be the completely unfounded accusation of being the ‘bad luck guy’.” Izaya’s pretty eyes were sharp as he looked at Kadota. “If your friends want to believe it that’s fine, but there is no such thing as luck in this world, only cause and effect.”

Kadota just stared at him for a moment, and somehow he felt like he could understand what Izaya was really trying to say. “You have views on every single thing, don’t you? And you are always sure that you are right.”

Izaya’s gaze drifted to the side, and Kadota couldn’t fathom what it was he was looking at. “Of course I’m always right. I pay attention.”

Kadota braced his arms on the desk and leaned over so that his face was level with Izaya’s. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think you’re ‘bad luck guy,’ well, at least not lately. I believe you, you know. When you said that you’d try to be better, I believe you.” Kadota got close enough so that he could feel Izaya’s breath ghost across his own lips. “But don’t think that I don’t know who put blue cool-aid in Walker’s shower head. He was blue for an entire day. His clients for his ice sculpting business thought he was trying to be avant garde and one with the ice.”

Izaya smirked, the shifting of his lips causing them to brush Kadota’s minutely. “If you came here to try and make me feel better, you should have brought otoro.”

“It’s that really the only way to get back into your good graces?”

“The one and only.”

“You sure about that?” Kadota said against his lips.

“Absolutely.”

Kadota kissed him then, fond, eyes closed and earnest. Izaya’s lips were soft and warm under his as he kissed him back, mouth opening up sweetly for him when he begged entrance. It was hot and wet and so good, and Izaya moaned deeply in his throat, and Kadota was suddenly growing desperate.

Izaya pushed him back, Kadota suddenly finding himself standing upright. Izaya’s mouth left him just long enough for the information broker to clamber onto the desk, miscellaneous office supplies taking a tumble.

The better position let Kadota wrap an arm around a skinny waist and bring Izaya’s body flush against his, one hand sliding through dark hair as he cradled Izaya’s head, tilting his face so he could kiss him deeper, almost biting at him in his desire.  Izaya’s hands were gripping at his shoulders, trying to pull him impossibly closer. Izaya smelled really good, like a rush of vanilla and violet, and Kadota was losing himself.

Just as Kadota managed to un-tuck Izaya’s shirt and snake a hand up onto warm, smooth skin, Izaya pulled away slightly, panting. He locked eyes with Kadota, a half smile on his lips, the heat from their shared closeness doing all kinds of horrible things to Kadota’s self control. “Say Dotachin,” Izaya said, pressing close and keeping Kadota’s attention rapt. A wondering hand pressed fleetingly against the straining bulge in his jeans, and Kadota almost chocked at the small thrum of pleasure that alighted him. “Have you ever fucked a guy before?”

The answer was no. He’d never been attracted to another man before, didn’t entertain those kind of thoughts. But this was different, Izaya was different, everything about him. He’d never admit it, but in high school he’d wondered. Izaya was beautiful. And there was something alluring about the promise of mischief, of danger. He’d wondered what it would be like, to conquer someone like that.

Izaya grinded against him and it was filthy, delicious friction, all thoughts leaving Kadota’s head but one. “It’s okay, we’ve got all day to bring you up to speed, now don’t we? Up for the challenge?”

Kadota kissed Izaya deeply, breathlessly. “Oh, I don’t think it will be much of a challenge.”

Izaya smirked at him. “Cocky, I like it.” He reached out a hand and gripped Kadota’s cock through his pants, and Kadota groaned. “By the looks of it, I’ll like it a lot.”

And they were kissing again, a desperate, wet slide of lips and tongues and heat. Kadota picked Izaya up easily, the smaller man wrapping his legs around him as he made his way from the desk and up the stairs as fast as possible while being connected at the mouth.

Kadota had never been in Izaya’s room before, but the only thing he cared to know about it at the moment was where the bed was, and as soon as he found it he was pushing Izaya down into the soft sheets, body thrumming with need.

It was still the middle of the day, so the room was awash in daylight from the window. Kadota was glad for it. Izaya was flushed, pretty eyes blown and his dark hair was a mess.

Izaya shrugged off his shirt, Kadota’s mouth finding the line of a pale throat. He sucked hard, intent to leave a mark, hands wandering over Izaya’s chest and down his flat stomach, fingers lingering at the raised flesh of a barely there scar. Izaya moaned, then forced him away long enough to tug Kadota’s shirt off before reeling him back in, mouth greedy.  Izaya wasted no time getting hands on him, rubbing the muscles of his stomach, his shoulders, and leaving shocks of pleasure behind wherever he touched, Kadota’s blood turning to fire.

Kadota kissed him on the mouth, trailing his lips to his chin, and when he mouthed Izaya’s adam’s apple, kissed his way down his chest to swirl his tongue around his belly button, Izaya undulated like an electrical wire beneath him, canting his hips up to shamelessly grind into Kadota, the breath leaving him in a moan.

Kadota made quick work of his belt and zipper, but removing Izaya’s remarkably tight jeans was a much more difficult endeavor. “How the hell do you even fit into these things?” he grumbled, pulling the jeans down Izaya’s pale, soft thighs inch by tantalizing inch. If he was a less patient man he would have torn them to shreds the moment they put up a little resistance. He was hard, so hard and dying for skin on skin stimulation, and it was taking way too long to get them both naked. On the upside, at least Izaya wasn’t wearing any underwear.

“What’s the matter Dotachin, don’t you like it tight?” Izaya panted, mouth wicked and way more sexy than it had any right to be. Kadota swallowed.

Demon pants finally off, Kadota stepped off the bed and wasted no time divesting himself of his own jeans, pushing both his boxers and pants down in one go and stepping free of them. Belatedly, he realized that he lost his beanie at some point, probably somewhere down stairs. “Depends on what we’re talking about,” he said.

Red eyes were appraising him, running the span of him from head to toe, before settling on his thick cock, hard and erect. Kadota was never one to be shy or insecure about himself on a physical level, feeling rather confident on that front, but standing there in front of Izaya, a little self-consciousness came through.

“Depends huh?” Izaya smirked, spread out on the bed and beautiful, and suddenly any self-consciousness fades from Kadota’s mind, drawn to Izaya’s heat like the moth craves the flame. They kiss, wild and heated and a mess, their naked flesh finally making contact as Izaya lets his legs fall open and pulls Kadota against him. Izaya pulls away with a groan, and reaches over to the bedside drawer and takes out a bottle of lube. He uncaps it and takes Kadota’s hand, finds his fingers, and the liquid is slippery as Izaya pours it over his fingers. “Then let me make it clear for you, hmmm?” He guides Kadota’s hand down, positions his fingers to exactly where he wants them.

Kadota pressed a finger against Izaya’s heat, and when Izaya’s breath hitched and he rolled his hips, Kadota wasted no time slipping a finger inside. It was tight and hot, and Kadota found himself mesmerized by the way that Izaya reacted as he slipped his finger in and out of him, in and out. The rise and fall of his chest as it expanded on too little air, his breath coming in short little pants. When Kadota finally has three fingers in, Izaya groans in frustration, and then he’s holding Kadota’s arm still and canting his hips up and fucking himself on Kadota’s fingers. “Fuck—,” Izaya pants, breathing shallow. “You go—ah, to slow.”

Izaya’s leaking out on his stomach, body convulsing with every brush of Kadota’s fingers, and Kadota stretches him wider, figuring out exactly where to crook his fingers, and Izaya’s back bows and releases his hand, clutches at his shoulders.

Kadota removed his fingers one-buy-one, and then reached for the bottle of lube still lying on the bed, slicking himself up. When he positioned himself at Izaya’s entrance, Izaya trembled against him in anticipation.

Kadota fucked into Izaya slowly, grabbing him by the hips as he went inch-by-inch until he was fully seated inside him. He was hot and tight, and Kadota kisses him mindlessly before pulling out and thrusting back in with a force that rocked Izaya’s entire body and he keens.

Kadota fucks into Izaya relentlessly, and Izaya’s a moaning wreck, a wreck with kiss swollen slips, sexed up hair, and blown eyes, and Kadota thinks that this might kill him, that Izaya could kill him here if he wanted, with a kiss, a roll of his lips, his devil eyes.

Kadota can feel the pleasure ratcheting up with every thrust of his hips, sparks running through his veins, his blood singing. Izaya’s thighs started to tremble around him from the sheer pleasure, and Kadota grabbed his cock, stroking, intent to bring Izaya over the edge.

Izaya couldn’t stop making noise, couldn’t stop the words ‘Kyohei’ and ‘More’ and ‘Please’ from coming out of his mouth, couldn’t stop himself from rocking into Kadota’s thrust, and it was driving Kadota insane.

Suddenly Izaya’s body tensed, and he tightened like a vice around Kadota’s cock, making every rock of his hips almost unbearable in its pleasure. Izaya came, back bowed and beautiful, and Kadota couldn’t last long after that, fucking into him a few more times before he was struck with a pleasure so intense he was lost for a few moments, coming deep and hard inside of Izaya.

Kadota collapsed briefly on top of Izaya, before regaining his bearings and pulling out. He rolled to the side of him. Izaya was staring at him with a strange expression, a little scared, a little happy, mostly thoughtful. He moved so that he was resting his head on Kadota’s chest, and Kadota wrapped his arms around him.

“You know Dotachin, I think I really like you.”

Despite the nature of their previous activities, Kadota found his face heating up, embarrassed, his stomach doing a happy, nervous flip.

“You like everybody, Izaya.”

The sun was still shining through the window. There was a lot of daylight ahead.

“Not like this.”

 

That day, the Saitama Seibu Lions suffered one of the most humiliating defeats of their careers when Hokkaido made a miraculous comeback. Saburo didn’t even bother to ask where Kadota disappeared to that day. It was all in the scorecard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, If I don't update this in a weeks time feel free to come after me with pitchforks.


	11. 1%

Celty was dreaming.

But was it a dream, or a memory?

She was dressed in battle armor, her headless steed at her side, and her head was cradled in the curve of her arm.

This place. It was so familiar.

She was in a large, sweeping courtyard with high, solid walls around the perimeter. A short distance away stood a castle not unlike those familiar to her in Ireland, but at the same time so much different. She could tell by just looking at it. It wasn’t made by human hands. And she definitely wasn’t in Ireland. Grass crunched underfoot as she felt her body move forward, unheeding to any of her minds commands. Celty led Shooter (but wait, that wasn’t his name here, was it?) to the stables, handing him over to a sallow faced, sharp toothed stableman.

Leaving the stables, Celty quickly made her way through the courtyard. There seemed to be some kind of commotion going on at the gate. People were gathering around, and Celty found herself thrilled, just beside herself with excitement, and the depth of the feeling scared her.

A familiar figure emerged from the crowd, and Celty was shocked at her body’s response to the sight of him. The death pale skin, the cavernous smile, and the green glow of his eyes. She was happy, so happy to see him.

“Senri,” her head smiled, a vicious little smile that Celty would never associate with herself. “Is it true? Has there been another crossing?”

The man’s ever smiling mouth gaped just a bit wider, and he laughed, high and pleased. “There has. Rumor has it that there are eleven of them this time.” He looped her arm with his, steering her back towards the stables, and she came along eagerly. “We need to get going before somebody else takes them all.”   

“Of course,” Celty said, sharing a predatory smile with her companion. “To the victor go the spoils.”

“Yes. And if rumors are to be believed, we won’t get to have this kind of fun for much longer.”

“Sad isn’t it. We’ll just have to make this one count. Besides, we can always slip on over there to have a little fun if it gets too boring.”

“And that right there Celty is why we’re best friends. After all, if not for a little entertainment, what value do humans have?”

Celty laughed. “The only value that humans have is the joy they bring me when I personally deliver them to death, bleeding and crawling and cowardly. The delight I experience from their screams as I break them open. That reminds me, I got a new toy that I want to try out.”

“If it’s anything like the last one, I think I’m going to like it. Though, maybe I should bring a change of clothes. Humans bleed so much, don’t they?”

“Like a pig, but half as valuable.”

 

 

Anger

For most people, this was a normal emotion. It varied, from the smallest irritation to the most explosive of rages. There were different ways to deal with it. Some people could just let it go and move on. Some needed a distraction, or some kind of physical outlet. Others just needed to relax.

Anger didn’t exist for Shizuo Heiwajima. Such an emotion was too mild, too common. For him there was only fury. Fury and rage and violence. There was never such a small thing as anger, something that could be managed, bargained with, assuaged.

It took almost nothing to set him off. A voice he didn’t like, or an idea, a question. The way someone smiled, the way they moved, the way they were looking at him.

And when he went off, he exploded. His vision goes red, and for a time it’s madness.

Even though he hates violence, he becomes it, without any thought or rhyme or reason, he just is.

A berserker, with eyes only for the object of his hatred, and hands only wishing to ‘kill kill kill.’

Luckily, peace finds him quickly. After the first blow, or after he sends the annoyance flying through the skies of Ikebukuro, the fury leaves him just as quick as it took him in the first place. He comes down just as quickly and suddenly as he goes off. This is probably the only reason why he has yet to kill anyone.

Of course, there are exceptions to every rule. On a few occasions he has been able to snap out of the rage before he could do something he’d never be able to take back, his fist halting in mid-swing.

And then there were some people, individuals he interacted with on a regular basis.  He was so used to feeling rage over them that it was easier for him to hold it back. How many times has he destroyed Shinra’s furniture in place of the doctor himself? Or let Simon off with a shiner, or redirected his fury away from Celty? How many times has Izaya ducked behind Kadota knowing that Shizuo would back off?

Fucking flea. Even the thought of him could bring Shizuo to the cusp of a Fury.

“Senpai?” The sound of Vorona’s voice dissipated the red fog that was starting to envelope his mind, distracting him. “Tom-san is moving out of our vicinity.”

“Right,” Shizuo picked up the pace and fell in step with Vorona, having fallen behind in his thoughts.

“Is Shizuo-senpai feeling satisfactory?”

“Huh?” Shizuo glanced over at her from behind his sunglasses, beginning to dig through his pocket for a cigarette.

“Senpai has been operating at an abnormal capacity in recent times. Distracted, always. ”

Shizuo shrugged, keeping an eye on Tom walking not too far ahead of them. “Distracted?” He retrieved the much sought after cigarette and lit up, inhaling the calming nicotine. “Maybe.”

“Does something trouble Senpai?” Vorona asked.

“I dunno, I guess.” It was hard to put into words without sounding like a nut job, but there was something very wrong with Ikebukuro. The air was different, the buzz of the collected voices in the crowds, the light and the shadows, everything. It was wrong, wrong, wrong. There was something off. It stank. In a different way than it stank when the louse was up to no good and Shizuo could feel the inevitable trouble mounting in his blood. And the flea was conspicuously absent from Ikebukuro lately in what had to be a new record. It was November, and the last flea sighting had to have been in September. He remembered, because Celty had intervened and the flea escaped without Shizuo laying a hand on him. Either he was plotting something big, or maybe whatever was wrong with the city drove him away. Maybe he knew something. There was a ninety-nine percent chance that it was his fault, whatever it was.

Then there was the case of the disintegrating murderer. Celty never was able to explain that, and it always felt like there was something she just wasn’t telling him. Shinra was behaving even more strangely than normal, and who would have ever thought that was possible. He hadn’t seen Kadota or his buddies in weeks, and he always ran into them.

He settled with, “There’s something wrong with Ikebukuro.”   

Vorona didn’t laugh at him like he half-way expected. “What is Senpai’s meaning?”

Shizuo blew out a stream of smoke. “I mean it like I said it. The city’s wrong. It stinks.”

Vorona looked at him very seriously, than nodded. “Affirmative. It is as Senpai says.”

Shizuo could only look at her. “That so?”

“Affirmative. It is instinct. I trust Senpai’s instinct.”

“Instinct, huh.”

“Shizuo, Vorona, hurry it up you two, we’ve got four more people to track down today.”

It was as Shizuo and Vorona were hurrying up to catch up to Tom that two things happened.

First, a man came sprinting down the street like a bat out of hell and collided with Shizuo. Upon impact, the man hit the ground hard while Shizuo just stood there, mildly inconvenienced and a little surprised.

When the surprise left him, Shizuo could feel his temple start to throb and his brow twitch. “Hey, watch where you—”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” the man babbled, and when he looked up at Shizuo, it was a look of such absolute terror that Shizuo stood frozen. That gaze, that terror; it was not directed at him. The guy might as well have been looking right through him.

The man scrambled to his feet as fast as he was able, and it was with difficulty, he seemed to be injured. As soon as he was upright he was running again, blind and desperate in his panic, various people who had stopped to watch the incident murmuring amongst themselves.

“Is he going to be alright?”

“He looked scared.”

“Of course he was scared, he ran into Heiwajima.”

“Should we call the police?”

Belatedly, Shizuo realized that he was bloody where the man ran into him, and so was the ground where the man fell. Vorona was looking back in the direction the man fled from, her shoulders tense. “Shizuo-senpai, I think we should—”

That was when the second thing happened. Suddenly, Junko was tearing around the corner, the little cat running in the direction the man had gone.

“What the fuck?” How did she even get out? Before he knew what he was doing, Shizuo was giving chase, Vorona on his heels.

They rounded a corner, and then a horrendous screeching could be heard. Shizuo watched as, almost in slow motion, a car collided with the fleeing man. His body flew to the ground and the car could not stop in time, the tires squealing as they flattened the guy to a meaty pulp.

In the distance there were sirens, and Shizuo thought he was going to be sick. What the hell just happened? Out of the corner of his eye he could see Junko, hunkered down not too far from where the terrified man met his gruesome end. She looked at Shizuo for but a moment, and then started down the street northbound, away from Shizuo and the sirens.

And still, Shizuo felt a compulsion to follow her. Instinct, huh.

 

 

Kinnosuke Kuzuhara saw a lot in his line of work. But this. This was a bit much.

He had a handkerchief pressed to his face in a vain attempt to keep back some of the stench.

They got a call a few hours back from a hysterical rental agent, having come to check up on one of his rental properties. He wasn’t ready for what he would find, but nobody would be. Not for this. Not even Kinnosuke Kuzuhara, who hunted down headless monsters for disobeying traffic laws.

According to the rental agent, he came to check out a newly acquired rental property allocated to him by his agency. It was acquired only days ago, and the agency had conducted an inspection of the property upon purchase. Everything checked out. That means that whoever did this moved fast.

At first glance, it looked like two were dead. Upon closer inspection, the number jumped to seven. The bodies just weren’t as easy to identify as once being people.

“Holy shit,” said Kazuki Hisakawa, one of the newer members of his squad. “Is that what I think it is?”

His feet made sickening squelching sounds as he walked over to examine what the officer pointed out, the floor covered in red gore. Clean-up was going to be a bitch.

Kinnosuke whistled. “Never thought I’d see one of these in Japan.”

“Hey, sir look at this.” Kinnosuke looked over to an officer standing by the door. There was a cage, just barely big enough to contain an adult. It was busted open, by the looks of it from the inside. And the door handle on the inside of the room; it had a bloody handprint. “Sir, could there be a survivor?”

 

 

Celty woke up, shaking and trembling. Even though she was physically incapable of it, she wanted to be sick. She wanted to cry. She couldn’t stop shaking.

Shinra shifted next to her in bed, before sleepily blinking open his eyes. “Celty, what’s wrong. You’re shaking.” He reached out to her, and she immediately swatted his hand away. Concerned, Shinra sat up next to her and reached for his glasses on the tableside so he could look at her better. “Celty, are you crying?”

“Celty?” She really was a monster wasn’t she? One of the worst kind. The things that she did. The horrible, horrible things that she did to those people. And oh, how she liked it. Loved it even. She was going to be sick.

Suddenly, Celty found herself in Shinra’s arms, his hands kneading her shaking shoulders, holding her close.

“It was just a dream Celty, just a dream. You’re going to be alright.” But it wasn’t a dream, and how could she ever be alright.

They stayed like that for a while, Shinra holding her close and softly murmuring reassuring words while she shook like a leaf. When she calmed enough, she pulled slightly away from Shinra while remaining in his arms, just enough to reach the PDA on the bedside.

_“You’re right Shinra.”_

_“You were right all along.”_

“Celty?”

_“I don’t need my head, I don’t want it!”_

Shinra gently grabbed her forearms and moved her away so that he could look at her fully.

“Celty. What happened? I’d be lying if I said those words didn’t make me happy, but what is this all of a sudden?”

Slowly, hesitantly Celty started to type words on the PDA. Soon enough she couldn’t type fast enough.

She told him everything

 

 

When Shizuo finally caught up to Junko, he noticed he was close to Russia Sushi. As soon as the cat slowed down enough, Shizuo promptly picked up the little nuisance so that she couldn’t take off again. Damn cat.

He looked Junko in the eyes and she stared back innocently. “Don’t tell me you ran all the way here just for Simon’s crappy sushi. How the hell did you even get out?” As expected, the cat remained silent apart from a wobbly ‘meow.’

“Are you some kind of harbinger of trouble or what?”

Suddenly, Shizuo got the strangest sensation. It was like the gravity shifted on him.

Also, it stank of flea.

Shizuo dropped Junko, the cat landing uncaringly on the ground, content there it would seem. Shizuo’s vision started to go red, growing redder at the tell-tell sight of a fur-trimmed parka coming around the bend. He grabbed the closest thing to him that wasn’t a tiny cat, hands closing around a guard rail and closing down, warping the metal as he tore it from the ground with a violent screech. “Izaaaaayaaaaa!”

He was lost in the red haze, and too late he realized that Izaya wasn’t alone, the rail was already vaulted at the filth.

Later, he could remember everything that happened as if he were looking at snapshots. Izaya was supposed to be alone, he was always alone, but this time Kadota was close at his side, in range, the two apparently headed to Russia Sushi. Shizuo expected Izaya to dodge, and with mounting horror he realized that Kadota couldn’t, wouldn’t be able to, his reflexes weren’t as honed, not as expecting.

Izaya didn’t dodge.

Kadota didn’t get hit. He was pushed out of the way.

It finally happened. Shizuo had just witnessed the one percent.

Izaya was on the ground.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally trying to get in the habit of updating this at least once a week. We'll see how long that lasts.


	12. Down the Rabbit Hole

Shinra Kishitani, as an underground doctor of dubious repute, was always prepared for almost any medical emergency. The kind of people his occupation attracted as customers tended to play hard ball, and he was the one who patched them up discreetly, quietly. The Awakusu-kai’s Shiki had a key to his apartment, and sometimes he’d come home to find Yakuza on his sofa, dripping blood onto the carpet. It took a lot to surprise him these days, and even more to set him off kilter.

As of now, Shinra is decidedly both. He doesn’t know what he was expecting when his door was suddenly assaulted by loud banging, but it definitely wasn’t this. This being Izaya, unconscious and bleeding and being carried by Kyohei Kadota through the threshold and into his apartment that was soon becoming the setting of some kind of absurd parallel universe where things that never happen suddenly happen in spades.

Karisawa, Yumasaki, and Togusa quickly follow behind Kadota, and behind them is Shizuo Heiwajima, looking almost exactly how Shinra feels.

Actually, he looked worse, agitated and smelling like a carton of long gone cigarettes.

Why was he even here?

He wanted to ask what in the world happened, what was going on, but the words that left his mouth were, “Take him to the guest room. Second door on the right.”

Kadota wasted no time in following the instructions, heading to the door with Shinra on his heels while the rest of them hung back in the living room, Erika twisting her hat in her hands.

Kadota placed Izaya on the hospital grade bed, and Shinra immediately got to work, his instincts as an experienced doctor taking over.

“Do I even need to ask what happened?” Shinra asked, grabbing a pair of trauma shears and quickly cutting through Izaya’s bloodied shirt, exposing his chest.

“He got hit. He got hit bad, with a guard rail. Shizuo he, I…” Kadota was radiating anxiety and upset, to the point it was starting to affect Shinra’s purposeful calm. He needed to stay calm.

“Get out. Go and wait with the others.”

“What?” Kadota was definitely set to argue, and Shinra needed him out. He needed him out now.

“You’re distracting me.”

“But it was my fault. I…I just need to make sure he’s alright.” Kadota’s eyes were wide and desperate, and Shinra didn’t understand. Not at all. Not anything.

Since when could Shizuo land a blow like this? Since when did Izaya let him? Since when did Izaya getting hurt warrant all these people in his house, polluting the air with worry and uncertainty when he needed to stay calm, when he needed to maintain a clinical perspective.

“Kadota,” Shinra said calmly. “I understand.” But he didn’t, he really didn’t. “But I need you out of this room or I can’t do my job, and then Izaya will definitely not be alright.”

Shinra barely paid attention as Kadota finally left the room, closing the door softly as he went, but the doctor remained troubled, like Kadota had infected him with a virus he couldn’t shake off. His heart was beating too fast.

Methodically, Shinra began his examination. After cleaning off the blood, he found there was a slight puncture wound on his side where much of the blood was coming from. It wasn’t as bad as the amount of blood first suggested and he found his heart beat coming back down, applying pressure to the wound as he continued his examination.

Blunt force trauma to the chest. Shinra pressed down gently on his ribs, took the stethoscope from around his neck and pressed it to Izaya’s chest. At least three broken ribs, and with the barely there rattled breathing, a high chance of pulmonary contusion. After pressing down on Izaya’s chest, the information broker let out a ragged cough, blood falling from his lips, and Shinra knew to add laceration of the lungs to his diagnoses.

Shinra immediately put Izaya on oxygen fearing a lung collapse, before feeding a suctioning tube down his throat to drain any blood from the chest cavity.

Shizuo got him pretty good this time, but all in all it could have been worse. A lot worse. He estimated the time of recovery at about three days to heal the lungs, and three to five weeks for the ribs with the assumption he could keep Izaya from exacerbating his ribs and pulling off the oxygen mask every time Shinra wasn’t looking.

He was going to be alright.

After mending up the side wound and wrapping his chest, Shinra found that he was ready to face the worried people in the other room (and Shizuo, and Shinra was definitely going to find out what he was doing here, and what in the world had happened).

 

 

Truth be told, Shizuo didn’t even know why he came along, just that somehow when Togusa showed up with the van, he was shoving Junko into the arms of the newly caught up Vorona and demanding to come. At the time no one was really willing to argue with him, wanting to get the flea to medical attention as soon as possible, and wasn’t that something else.

Now however…

Karisawa was sitting on the couch, alternating between throwing worried glances at the closed door Kadota and the rest disappeared behind and giving him unhappy, betrayed looks when she thought he wasn’t looking. Yumasaki sat next to her holding her hand, and even though he wasn’t looking at Shizuo at all, it kind of felt like he was.

Togusa was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and studiously keeping his eyes on the floor.

Every single one of them wanted to say something to him, but were probably too afraid to say it.

What was he even doing here? In a way, he felt like he was in shock. The way someone might feel if their cat started talking to them. The whole situation had a surreal quality to it. He almost felt like he hallucinated the whole thing, like some kind of fever dream. But it wasn’t a dream, it was reality somehow.

Somehow, the flea wasn’t alone when they crossed paths. Somehow, Kadota was right there, practically glued to his side, and how is that a part of reality as he knows it, how could anyone stand to stay in the louse’s company like that, as close as that? Still, Shizuo couldn’t stop himself, the violent instinct associated with Izaya to strong to ignore.

He almost killed Kadota. Or rather, that’s the way it should have been if the world made any sense at all.

But no. No, Izaya looked right at Shizuo, right at him and at the guard rail turned flying projectile, and he did what he never should have done, because it doesn’t make any sense at all.

He pushed Kadota bodily out of the way, didn’t even have time to adjust his body so as to mitigate the damage from the incoming blow and holy fucking shit, Shizuo doesn’t even know what’s going on anymore.

He could only stand there, the rage leaving him in favor of blatant shock. And he should be happy, so rarely do any of his acts of violence so much as brush the fur trim of the louse’s jacket, let alone connect so fully, he really should be happy but he isn’t. And Kadota is upset, so very much upset and the why of it won’t leave him alone.

Before his thoughts could get any more away from him, Kadota exited the guest room.

“Dotachin.” Karisawa stood up immediately. “Is Izayan going to be alright?”

“I don’t know,” Kadota said. “Shinra kicked me out.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Yumasaki offered. “Isn’t he always?”

“He usually doesn’t get hit,” Kadota said it like he was in pain, and Shizuo couldn’t take it anymore.

“So why did he?” Shizuo said.

Everyone looked at him.

“I don’t know, maybe because someone threw a guard rail at him?” Togusa said, just shy of antagonistic.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. And since when do you care what I throw at the flea?” Shizuo could feel his blood start to stir.

Yumasaki said, “Since Izaya became our friend,” at the same time Karisawa blurted “Since Dotachin and Izayan started dating.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Karisawa’s eyes went big and she covered her mouth, and then she looked at Shizuo like she expected him to throw the coffee table at her. Everyone else was silent.

Shizuo couldn’t help it. He laughed. Honestly, he didn’t even know which statement was more ridiculous. But he was the only one laughing. No one else thought it was funny, and it was quickly dawning on Shizuo that neither statements were jokes, and his laughter died a painful, unexpected death.

Kadota looked him dead in the eye. “I guess that answers both of your questions.”

His questions. Why would Izaya do what he did, allow himself to get hit like that? Why would they care?

“Y-yeah. I guess it does.”

Kadota was looking at him so strangely, almost like he wanted to hit him, or maybe grab a hold of his shoulders and shake him. His eyes were wet.

And suddenly Shizuo had to get out of there, be anywhere in the world than right there in this room with these people, Izaya’s _friends,_ Izaya’s fucking _boyfriend._

He found himself at the door of Shinra’s apartment, hand gripping the handle hard enough to crack it, a fissure crawling up the metal.

“I’m sorry.” He didn’t even know what for, but he found himself saying it anyway, and then he was gone, heading out of the building.

He should be happy. He should be fucking happy.

 

 

Izaya dreamed in words.

Should you die while without a soul.

Should you **die.**

That will be it.

That will be **it.**

You will cease to exist.

Cease to **exist**.

So be careful, no?

He was afraid. And Izaya was never afraid, not of anything.

But the thought of not existing anymore, of disappearing into the nothingness was terrifying.

So why did he do it? What if he died? He would disappear forever.

What if he didn’t wake up? What if Shizuo finally killed him?

Well, so much for being careful. Funny how that works. Izaya had had his doubts before, about his own feelings. Wondering if his fond affection was the real deal, or just something he created in desperation, the ticking of the clock reminding him his future was on a timer, three months come and gone.

At the very least now he knows for sure. Knows in the way he panicked, couldn’t move for a moment. The knowledge that Dotachin was right there, right there. The knowledge that if he dodged, like every muscle in his body trembled in anticipation of, Dotachin would go down.

He didn’t even need to think about it, his body just moved, like it was the natural course of action.

If this didn’t kill him, he was definitely going to win.

He couldn’t wait to wake up.

Oh please wake up.

 

 

That night, Hisano Amagi’s body washed up on Tokyo Bay.


	13. Not Without Side Effects

It was the end of the world. There was just no other explanation.

The end of days was upon them.

Masaomi Kida stood stalk still, his body paused halfway through the doorway to Izaya’s apartment, a file of information in hand.

He could only stare.

Inside the apartment were five people, all seated around the coffee table. Each person had a card stuck to their forehead, a name written on it.

If Kida didn’t know better, he would say that they were playing ‘who am I?’

After a few moments of complete inactivity on Kida’s part, everyone turned to look at him.

“Kida-kun?” Karisawa said, and then he was shaking his head, blinking at them. When that didn’t change anything, Kida backpedaled and closed the door. He stared at the door for a minute, breathing deeply. Finally, he opened the door again.

Nope. Same picture. Izaya opened his mouth to say something undoubtedly irritating, but Kida was back out in the hall again staring at the door before he could say a word.

Okay. One more try. He reopened the door to find everyone exactly where his unfortunately not hallucinating mind left them.

Oh hell no. No. Just no. Without further ado, Kida left the file with information detailing Hisano Amagi’s autopsy on the end table by the door and left. Izaya could wire his pay to his account this time. There was no way he was dealing with this bullshit, not now.

It was the apocalypse. It had to be.

 

 

One week before December found Izaya well enough to escape Shinra’s poking and prodding, his evaluating, suspicious eyes and the uncomfortable line of his mouth. Though he was well enough to leave, his ribs were far from being even close to healed, and the underground doctor saw to it that Izaya had a good supply of pain medication, and ordered Izaya back shortly for a re-taping of his ribs.

While there was a lot that Erika Karisawa did not know about Izaya Orihara, she could state with confidence and no small amount of amusement that the information broker did not handle Shinra’s choice of pain killer very well. She didn’t know if it was because of his lack of weight or some other genetic disposition, but she knew one thing for sure.

Izaya Orihara, thoroughly, thoroughly medicated, was nothing short of comedy gold.

After taking Izaya back to his apartment, it became clear very quickly that something was amiss. During the ride over he’d been pretty drowsy, leaning against Dotachin, head resting against his shoulder. But after they helped him into his apartment, he did a most unexpected thing.

He hugged Saburo. The man in question could only stand there, not sure exactly what to do and caught completely off guard. When Izaya persisted in hugging him, Saburo looked at the others for help, but Kadota just shrugged while Erika and Walker grinned at him, for what, Erika didn’t really know but she had a feeling she was about to find out. Saburo eventually put an arm out awkwardly and patted the information broker’s back.

“Congratulations,” Izaya said.

“Eh?”

“On your marriage.”

“Ehhhh?”

Izaya finally let go of him. “Surprise!”

“Izaya,” Kadota said. “What are you talking about?”

“I hacked into the government registry and married Togusa to his van. Her name is Raku.” Izaya said the words very seriously, but then he burst out laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world.

Saburo was shocked speechless, and Erika had a coughing fit after she choked on her own saliva trying to keep from laughing along with Izaya.

“Is that even possible,” Walker whispered to her.

“Well, if anyone could enter you into an illegal, nonconsensual marriage to an inanimate object, it would probably be Izayan,” she whispered back, and Walker abruptly laughed.

At Erika’s look, he said, “Sorry, just Saburo and the van and the word nonconsensual. I don’t think Raku signed up for this.”

Meanwhile, Saburo started yelling. “Why did you do that?”

“It was payback for making me the ‘bad luck guy.’ But I see now that it wasn’t payback at all.”

“What are you talking about? How is this not payback?”

“I did you a favor. You are now married to your true love.” Izaya looked around the apartment. “Oi, does anyone else hear a cat speaking Japanese?” And with that parting comment, Izaya immediately went to the couch and passed out, one life thrown into chaos.

Before Saburo could throttle him, Kadota grabbed a hold of him and started dragging him to the door, saying something about Shinra and new medication. As Walker begin to follow them, making what was no doubt the start of many a married man joke, Erika offered to stay behind with Izaya.

With the rest of them gone, Erika waited for Izaya to wake up. When his eyelashes fluttered, his dazed eyes meeting hers, she couldn’t keep the mischievous smile off her face.

“Ne Iza-Iza, you believe in true love don’t you? Let me tell you about my OTP. Also, you should really consider my OT3.”

 

 

Patisserie Grasstiara wasn’t very crowded, the café experiencing the calm after the afternoon rush. It was one of Vorona’s favorite places to eat in Ikebukuro, the café offering up all kinds of treats to satisfy her considerable sweet tooth.

Shizuo Heiwajima, also in possession of a considerable sweet-tooth, sat across from her in the usual booth, the one that let her keep the entrance and exits in her line of sight.

The bodyguard was acting a bit strangely, more playing with his parfait than eating it. He’d been the one to request this social meeting, and Vorona was growing more and more curious as to what for.

“Is Senpai’s food unsatisfactory?”

Shizuo seemed to startle at the sound of her voice, before guiltily taking a bite of his parfait. “Nah, not really,” he said after he finished chewing. “Just a bit distracted I guess.”

Vorona speared a piece of red velvet cake with a spork, making sure to get a decent amount of sweet cream cheese frosting before bringing it to her lips and taking a bite.

“Affirmative. Elimination of distraction requested?”

“No, I just…I wanted to ask you something. Your opinion.”

“Acceptable. Senpai may inquire.”

Shizuo fiddled with the parfait a little, probably trying to figure out how to phrase his question. The more he put it off, the more and more curious Vorona got.

“Ah fuck it. It’s not like it makes sense anyway. The short and dirty is that something really unimaginable happened the other day. I mean, the thing that happened never happens. Never. If it did, things wouldn’t have turned out the way they are. I’ve always said that. If there was even one percent, and it’s crazy, absolutely impossible, but I saw it. It’s there.”

Vorona remained silent, not really sure how to respond to that.

Shizuo rubbed at the back of his neck. “Well, I guess what I really want to ask you is…” he looked at her, brown eyes trusting, and Vorona couldn’t help the pang of guilt in her chest at that look, knowing the reason she approached him in the first place, before the deep respect and fond affection. “Do you think people can change?”

Vorona found herself avoiding his gaze, looking at her hands instead. Her hands have seen a lot of blood. What would Shizuo think if he knew? She’d killed so many people she lost count before she made it into her teens. Because it made her feel strong, it made her feel powerful. Killing Shizuo would make her feel both those things, but to a much stronger extent. Even so…

“Affirmative. Change is feasible.”

 

 

After Kadota, Yumasaki, and Saburo left his apartment, a lesser pain medication in hand, Shinra couldn’t help but frown. He had patched Izaya up many a time during the course of their friendship. He knew Izaya’s limits. The pain killer he gave him, he’d given it to him before. There was never any problem.

Izaya hadn’t lost any weight, nor was he experiencing any kind of sickness. There was nothing to account for this development. Why could he no longer handle the standard? Tapping his fingers on his desk, Shinra looked over at Celty, and then he remembered. That’s right. That night that Celty brought Izaya to him, the confrontation with the bastard that blasted Celty into the wall. There was nothing that he could find wrong when he examined him, despite Izaya’s inability to regain consciousness for days.

Could he have missed something? No. Shinra shook his head, running a hand over his lips. He definitely didn’t miss anything. And Izaya had been fine before now. Hadn’t he?

 

 

“Shiki-san. You should see this.”

Shiki of the Awakusu-kai was not having a good day. Actually, it would be more accurate to say he was not having a good November.

Fumio Saiko, Shiki’s subordinate, had a map of Ikebukuro spread out on a table at one of their business fronts. On the surface the shop was a legitimate art dealer, but underneath that it was one of many functioning bodies that made up the Awakusu-kai organization. Most people would refer to them as Yakuza. And most people understood that you don’t infringe on a Yakuza’s territory.

“We’ve been having a hard time tracking them down, but as you can see…”

Bastards. They were setting up shop on the absolute fringes of Awakusu-kai territory, a breath from being over the line. To the north, the south, the east and the west. Almost like they were surrounding them. And they never stayed in the same place very long.

Saiko pointed to one of the red markings that he drew on the map. “Here was supposedly a gambling ring. However, word is very hush-hush on the exact form the gambling took. Over here,” he pointed to a marking not too far from the first, “was prostitution of some kind and over here they were dealing in narcotics. Two weeks later they were dealing opiates over here,” he pointed at the last marking.

“How do you know this is all the same organization?” Shiki asked.

“That’s easy enough. They always leave behind a calling card,” Saiko passed Shiki a business card. It was completely blank except one word in black lettering. Shiki pocketed the card before snagging his phone out of his pocket and dialing a certain information broker.

“Orihara-san. Make room to see me, we’ve got business. Ever hear the name ‘Gullinkambi’?”


	14. Moth

The bigger commotion in Ikebukuro, the more adversity to test the character and metal of all those that live therein. Usually the trials of the people, especially if he had even the slightest of hands in the makings of those trials, made Izaya extremely happy. Usually.

However, for the past few months he couldn’t help but get the feeling that events were drifting away from him, shaking his hold and dancing to the tune of others. Things were getting out of control, and not in the good way.

There was a record number of missing people in Ikebukuro, and the ones that did turn up…it was like something straight from the European dark ages. Though the police were keeping much of their investigation on the hush-hush to avoid causing panic, Izaya had enough ears and eyes around Ikebukuro to know a great deal more than they were scraping together, and it was not looking good.

And on top of everything else, Izaya was physically out of commission, his broken ribs slow on the recovery and determined to make his continued existence painful. It was a bit strange though, because he usually healed at a faster rate than what he was experiencing. Going out to observe people first hand was more of a risk than ever. He was now a slow moving target. Oh yeah. And he also didn’t have a soul at the moment, but he was working on that one.

The soft sun of a December morning filtered in through his bedroom window, and Izaya lazed in bed snuggled up to a sleeping Dotachin, the man’s arms wrapped comfortably around him. Kyohei was wonderfully warm in an apartment that was otherwise chilly, and Izaya did not want to get up. He was too at peace.

He pressed his face against Dotachin’s chest and inhaled the familiar, comforting scent. Just as he was getting the idea to wake up Kyohei for a good morning romp in the sheets, his ribs gave a protesting ache, and he knew that if he didn’t drag himself out of bed and to the medicine cabinet soon he was going to regret it.

Damning the monster that put him in this state, he very carefully extracted himself from Dotachin’s arms and braved the chilly apartment. His sleep clothes, a soft hooded sweater and comfy pajama pants, did little to keep the cold from him. He went to the bathroom as fast as he dared, eager to take the pills quickly and return to bed.

By the time he got back to the bedroom, Dotachin was awake. He was sitting up in bed, the covers falling over his lap, hair a mess. His gaze found Izaya the moment he stepped into the room.

“You okay?”

“Never better,” Izaya lied. He crossed the room over to Dotachin’s side of the bed and promptly straddled him. “Okay I lied. I could be much, much better.” He rocked against Dotachin, immediately coming into contact with the hardness from his morning erection hidden beneath the covers and the soft fabric of his sleep clothes.

Kyohei’s large, warm hands easily fell to his hips. “What about your…” He reached out a hand and slipped it under Izaya’s shirt, trailing fire as he ran it over a smooth stomach before fingering the edge of the bandages.

“It’s fine. We just have to be a bit more careful than usual.” Izaya kissed him, a soft brush of lips that quickly descended into a slow, sensual glide that left them both wanting. Their kiss deepened, Izaya slipping his tongue into Kyohei’s mouth and gasping when their tongues brushed. It was sweet and slow and hot. Izaya reached out a hand and dipped it under the covers. He smoothed it under the waistband of Kyohei’s sleep pants and palmed his cock. Dotachin groaned into the kiss, his hands tightening on Izaya’s waist, and at that moment Izaya wanted nothing more than to rip the covers off and take Kyohei deep within himself for a nice, hard ride. If only his ribs would heal faster. As it was, he allowed Dotachin to careful push him off of his lap and lay him on his back, Kyohei’s warm body pressing over his without putting any real weight on him.

The bed covers were thrown far and away, and Izaya stared up at Dotachin as he pulled away from him so he could take his shirt off. He couldn’t help himself from touching. He ran his hands up that strong chest, teasingly brushed by a nipple and brought one hand to the back of Kyohei’s neck, pulling his mouth to his own. He lost himself in the wet heat of the kiss and before he knew it they were both naked, their clothes thrown haphazardly on the floor.

By the time Kyohei’s lips were warm and wet on his neck Izaya was a panting wreck, hair a mess and lips a bruised red. Those lips trailed over his collar bone and down his chest, just above the bandages keeping his ribs set, kissing and sucking and sending pleasure alighting through every one of Izaya’s nerve endings. Kyohei’s lips latched onto a nipple. Izaya gasped as a tongue circled him, laving his nipple before leaving a wet trail across his chest to pay tribute to its twin. The hint of teeth had him moaning, the pleasure making him impossibly harder and wanting all the more for it.

Dotachin pressed soft, worshipful kisses against Izaya’s bandages, his hands careful, and Izaya had a moment where he was utterly struck. It was…they were…it was like the magnitude of what he was doing decided to suddenly hit him. He had pushed Dotachin out of the way. Didn’t even think about it, as if it was the most natural thing to do, because…he couldn’t even fathom the alternative. Dangerous. This was so dangerous what they were doing. There was a warmth in his chest and Kyohei was kissing him again and it was almost too much, too good.

Dotachin pulled away from his mouth and Izaya wanted so badly to follow, but then Kyohei was going down, going down until his head was tilted above Izaya’s straining cock. Now, Izaya was one-hundred percent certain that Dotachin had never, never done this before but oh god did he make up for anything he lacked in experience with sheer determination.

Izaya couldn’t look away as Kyohei experimentally licked the head of his cock, lapping up a bit of pre-cum curling at the tip. Izaya’s hands gripped the bed sheet hard as Kyohei continued on like that, running his tongue along a vein before adding his hands to the mix, rolling Izaya’s balls with firm fingers and making Izaya roll his hips helplessly. “Oh god—I—Kyohei!—” His voice broke on a whimper as Dotachin took him into his mouth. It took every ounce of self control he had not to buck his hips into that hot, wet mouth. Every swipe of tongue, every moment of sweet, hot suction had him reeling, his hands coming to tangle in Kyohei’s hair. Dotachin hummed experimentally and Izaya lost it. His orgasm took him, white hot pleasure going off like landmines from the tips of his curling toes to every other part of his body.

The next thing Izaya knew there were fingers slipping into him, and he spread his thighs in welcome. Dotachin’s face was flushed, eyes dark with arousal, his cock hard and dripping and everything that Izaya ever could have wanted. Really, being hurt wasn’t all that bad with Dotachin being so willing to do all of the work. Kyohei worked him open with single minded focus, placing kisses on the soft flesh of the inside of Izaya’s thighs, the sides of his knees. Izaya pulled Kyohei’s face to his, kissing him deeply and tasting himself on the others tongue. He was achingly hard again, and after a few brushes of Dotachin’s fingers against his prostrate he was moaning against the others mouth. Kyohei finally, finally slicked himself up, positioned himself at Izaya’s entrance and slid home.

Izaya moaned as Dotachin fucked into him, and he wrapped his legs around Kyohei’s waist, ushering him in deeper. Dotachin’s arms were braced around Izaya’s head, their faces close, and Izaya wrapped his arms around Kyohei’s sweating torso, hanging on for dear life as he rocked into him, over and over and so good, so fucking good, pleasure flicking up and down and everywhere with each hot slide of the hard cock inside of him. Dotachin buried his face where Izaya’s neck met his shoulder and sucked, his hips driving harder, faster and god, there was definitely going to be a mark later. Dotachin smelled of wood and mandarin and musk, and Izaya was surrounded by him. He was babbling, begging, nothing but “please” and “more” and “don’t stop, oh god keep going” and “Kyohei!”

Dotachin really, really liked it when he called him by his name, if his response was anything to go by. “Izaya! Izaya—” and Izaya couldn’t help it, his thighs were shaking from the onslaught of wave after wave of pleasure thrumming through him with every thrust, it was too much, too good. Lights flashed behind his eyes and he came, muscles clamping down hard on Kyohei like a vice. Izaya could only lay there half dazed as Dotachin thrust into him a few more times before he climaxed, the warm, sticky rush of cum trickling down Izaya’s thighs.

Kyohei collapsed beside him, and threw an arm around Izaya’s waist, bringing him close. They cuddled for some minutes, and Izaya did not think about everything that was wrong these days. There was no room in his thoughts for it, at least not now, not with Dotachin’s arms around him.

“Izaya?”

“Hmm?” Izaya asked sleepily, thankful for Sunday mornings when Dotachin could laze in bed with him. He had a few appointments with clients later in the day, but they seemed a long way off.

“The other day when we left you alone with Karisawa. Did she say anything to you?”

“ That girl never shuts up,” not that he had any room to talk. “Why do you ask?”

“She’s had this really scary smile on her face lately, I think she’s plotting something.”

Izaya laughed. “Think we’re in league, do you?”

Dotachin tightened his arms around him and huffed. “That’s not it.”

“No? Are you sure? Think of all the possibilities…”

“I shudder at the thought.”

Izaya laughed again.

“If Dotachin’s so curious, I have to tell him all that happened was Erika Karisawa unloaded a harlequin anthology of unsolicited romantic imaginings onto one Izaya Orihara, while too drugged to escape the horror.”

“Harlequin romantic imaginings?”

“Believe me you don’t want to know. I don’t even want to know. Let’s just say it involved you, me, Shizu-chan and a chocolate covered banana on a stick.”

“…”

“…”

“You, me and…Shizuo?”

“And a chocolate covered banana on a stick. The ramblings of a deranged mind. Anyway, whatever it is that has her smiling like a cat that’s got the canary, it hasn’t anything to do with us.”

 

 

 

“What do you know about Gullinkambi?”

The black car slid smoothly down the street, Izaya dividing his time between peering out the tinted, bullet proof windows of the back seat and meeting Shiki’s eyes in the rear view mirror from his place in the passenger’s seat.

“Hmm, Gullinkambi? A rooster, isn’t it? From Norse mythology. A herald of end of days. Its crowing was one of many signs of Ragnarok’s imminent approach.” Izaya met Shiki’s steady eyes in the mirror, a smile taking his lips. “Never took you for one interested in Norse mythology Shiki-san.”

“Is that all you know?”

“What more is there?”

Shiki took a moment to study Izaya in the mirror, as if looking for any signs of deception. Izaya could have laughed at the distrust. Shiki-san was always a smart one, wasn’t he? Too bad it was impossible for someone like him to read someone like Izaya. However, unlike the last time they took a ride in this car to negotiate a job, this time Izaya was telling the truth. Gullinkambi had no other meaning to him, unlike the names of the two clubs he founded in high school and college.

“That’s what I want you to find out.” Shiki pulled out a manila folder from his suit and passed it over his shoulder to Izaya.

Izaya opened it and started examining the contents as Shiki spoke. “Gullinkambi. Two parts gambling ring, one part drug distribution, and one part prostitution. You have all the information we’ve managed to collect on these bastards. We want more, and we want it yesterday.”

“You want them buried,” Izaya said. The folder contained a business card that simply said Gullinkambi. Then there was information on their known locations of operation, but beyond that there wasn’t much.

Shiki withdrew an envelope from his jacket and passed it to Izaya. “That’s half. You’ll get the rest when you complete the job.”

Upon the perusal of the envelope, Izaya found that there were a lot more bills than usual. He looked at Shiki in the mirror. “Anything I should be made aware of Shiki-san?”

“Just a few rumors. I’m sure you can handle it.”

“I see.”

The car slowed to a stop a few blocks away from Izaya’s apartment, and as he was about to exit the car Shiki caught his eye. “Orihara-san. For this particular job, you may need to use a few resources you usually refrain from.”

Izaya blinked at him, that could mean so many different things. “Resources?”

“You have my number. Don’t be afraid to use it.”

Izaya smiled at him. “I see this job is going to be fun. Shiki-san is already planning my rescue.”

“I’m not joking Orihara-san.”

“I never thought you were.”

After Izaya left the car and they were pulling away from the curb, Fumio Saiko briefly caught Shiki’s eye before focusing back on the road. “Are you sure this is a good idea boss. Sending in a kid like that?”

“You’d be surprised at what kids these days are capable of Saiko-san.”

Saiko was silent in acceptance, though Shiki could tell that the idea did not sit well with him.

Truth be told, it didn’t sit well with Shiki either, but this was their best bet. They had to take out Gullinkambi as soon as possible.

 

 

 

Shizuo sat on a bench, the scent of cigarettes in the chilly air. Celty sat beside him as he smoked, patient as always, and her presence had a calming effect not unlike the rush of smoke in his lungs. Around them people enjoyed the park, and if any of them had the idea to stare a little too long at the headless rider, or had the curiosity to approach her, one look from the man in bartender garbs was enough to move them along

Celty was always good company, and one of the few people who had never, not even once inspired Shizuo’s ferocious rage. Not even Kasuka held that distinction. It could have had something to do with the fact that she was incapable of blurting out stupid or annoying things like her other half was so likely to do, but he knew that wasn’t the case. Celty was thoughtful, especially of him, and he was grateful to have her for a friend. It also didn’t hurt that she was so physically durable, unafraid to come between him and the target of his anger, dragging him from his berserker rage with his complete unwillingness to hurt her. No matter how many times he told her to get out of the way, she never did. The only other people brave enough to physically stand between him and his target were Simon, who agreed very strongly with Shizuo on his stance on violence, and he could take a punch. Then there was…Kadota. The only other person other than Celty to never inspire his rage, and who even in high school allowed Izaya to hide behind him, the louse knowing that Shizuo wouldn’t hurt Kadota even to get to him. Shizuo had always held a deep respect for Kadota. He was a genuine, straightforward person, and honorable to a fault. The opposite of the louse. And apparently…involved with him.

That was…just about the last thing he expected, from either of them. Kadota wasn’t stupid, and the louse destroyed people’s lives for shits and giggles. The moment Shizuo saw him he hated him, could sense the deceitful nature behind the friendly smile. When Izaya looked at him, his intentions were transparent: “I’ll lead you to ruin.”

Kadota wasn’t stupid. Kadota wasn’t stupid, and when it came down to it, when the louse would one hundred percent of the time cut and run, he took the hit. He pushed Kadota out of the way and took the hit and went down, and fuck, Shizuo should be really happy about finally, finally getting the upper hand on that noxious flea for once, for returning some of the pain and misery he so happily encourages in others. Except Kadota, apparently. Kadota wasn’t stupid. If he was, it would have been him bleeding on the sidewalk, but it wasn’t.

And Shizuo was utterly flabbergasted. Because somehow, someway Kyohei Kadota and Izaya Orihara were an item and it wasn’t a joke, wasn’t a mean spirited little hit-and-run that Shizuo would expect from the louse, laughing at the heartbreak and betrayal of others.

Somehow, Shizuo felt just a bit pathetic. Izaya was always something he thought of as inhuman, a noxious blood sucker that needed to be crushed. In the entirety of knowing him, Shizuo had never witnessed an ounce of humanity, a touch of human kindness. He only sowed ruin. He always told himself that if Izaya had even one percent of good in him, something, anything, than things wouldn’t have turned out the way they were between them. As it turns out, Izaya Orihara was a little human after all. It was pathetic because now he had a bit of hope. If Izaya wasn’t quite as despicable as he had always believed then maybe…maybe he could let it go. Maybe he wouldn’t have to feel the compulsion to search and destroy every time the bastard came into Ikebukuro. He almost laughed to himself, Celty tilting her helmet quizzically at him at his aborted movement. As if ten years of mutual enmity could just go away, as if he ever could live a more peaceful life. Pathetic.

_Shizuo?_

Celty broke him out of his thoughts, presenting him with the glowing face of her PDA.

_You’ve been awfully quiet._

Shizuo shrugged. “Sorry. I was thinking.”

_About Izaya?_

_And Kadota?_

Shizuo looked at her. “How did you know?”

_You had a really angry look on your face._

_I know you well enough to know what inspires that particular look._

Shizuo was silent for a moment.

“Celty?”

_Hmm?_

“Is this a trick?”

Celty knew exactly what he was talking about. She took her time typing a reply on the PDA.

_I don’t think it is._

“Yeah.”

_Weird isn’t it?_

“Weird doesn’t even begin to describe it.”

Celty shook her helmet.

_It’s funny._

_Maybe I’ve let Shinra’s thinking affect me too much._

_But I’ve always thought that if something like this were to happen._

Shizuo smoked as Celty hesitated a bit.

_I thought it would have been you._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback appreciated. 
> 
> Just please no "Is it Shizaya yet?" because children, I will turn this car around.


	15. Two in the Bush

The walk back home from his meeting with Shiki was pleasant, Izaya’s mind buzzing with thoughts of his newest job. Night was falling, the street lamps flickering on to light upon the sidewalk. Despite his preoccupation with thoughts of Gullinkambi, missing people, and evidence of unthinkable acts upon humanity, it soon came to Izaya’s attention that someone was watching him, the uncanny feeling of eyes on the back of his neck unshakeable. Casually, Izaya put his hands in the pockets of his coat, his fingers finding the familiar weight of his switchblade. The information broker was far from being in even good condition, but that wasn’t going to stop him from defending himself if the need came.

Izaya continued walking as inconspicuously as possible, intent on losing his tail in an upcoming network of alleys coming up on his route. He knew Shinjuku almost as well as he knew Ikebukuro, and was confident in shaking off his pursuer with a minimal amount of effort. Ideally, he would love to confront whoever got the idea to follow him. Who could it be, who could it be? One of his former playthings come looking for revenge? A random street punk? Someone from Gullinkambi? If so, they worked remarkably fast now don’t they? In any case, it would be in his best interest not to find out at this particular moment, his healing ribs a caution against his curiosity. Izaya wasn’t physically strong, had never been. His strength was in his speed and skill and wits, and the loss of his speed due to injury was enough to keep him facing forward and his mouth shut, much as he’d love otherwise.

Still, he couldn’t quite keep a smirk off his face as he quickly sidestepped into a shadowed alleyway, ready to lose his pursuer. On quick feet he stuck to the shadows, winding his way through alley after alley, avoiding the dead ends. He winded up a bit farther out of his way from home than he would have liked, but it was better than possibly getting stabbed again. He did not desire a repeat of that.

Confident he lost whoever was following him, he made to exit out of the alley and get back on the road proper. He took a step, and then something blurred by him, brushing against his jacket as it passed him.

In the next moment there was a man standing in front of him. Despite himself, Izaya took a step back. The man’s eyes were a vibrant yellow under a mess of dark bangs, impossible to miss within the shadows of the alley.

“What happened to her? What did you do?” The man’s voice broke the absolute silence.

Izaya tilted his head. “What did I do to who now?”

“You know what I mean.”

Izaya smiled, the easy expression at odds with his building trepidation. The man’s body language, the stiffness of his stance, the tension in his clenched fists; he was ready to spring if provoked. He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t…

Oh hell.

“No, I really don’t. You see, I do many things that involve a lot of different people. You’ll have to be more specific.”

The man was fast, his movements a blur in Izaya’s vision. Before he could defend himself, Izaya found himself with his feet dangling above the broken concrete, held aloft by a hand wrapped loosely around his throat. The man immediately slammed him against the wall and Izaya saw stars, the breath whooshing out of him with the impact, his ribs throbbing in their bindings. He took a moment to be thankful nothing broke again before the hand tightened around his throat, bringing Izaya up to eye level. With his other hand, the man rustled through his coat pocket, fishing out a crumpled piece of paper and shoving it in Izaya’s face before dropping him to his feet.

Izaya grappled with the paper for a moment, straightening himself with as much dignity as possible and smoothing out the paper. He found that it was a photograph, fairly old, probably taken fifty to sixty years ago. It was a young girl. She was exceptionally pretty, but there was something about her that didn’t seem quite right. In a way it almost reminded him of…

“I know she was with you the night she disappeared. I know she did a job for you.”

“…You’re a ‘contact’ of Hisano-san’s.” The only ones who should have known about the job he gave Hisano and their subsequent meeting were himself, Hisano and her connections, connections that wouldn’t give up their goods without knowing exactly who they were selling too.

The man looked at him, and the expression he wore told Izaya that he was completely wrong. “No. You were something more, weren’t you?” Strange and not so strange, as young as the man appeared to be. Appearances were deceiving, Izaya was an expert on that.

“That’s none of your business. “

“Maybe. In any case, I can tell you that I had nothing to do with what happened to Hisano-san.”

“Bullshit.”

Izaya smirked. “Really, is it so hard to take my word for it? Don’t people believe in coincidences anymore?” He shook his head, then looked the man dead in the eye. “I’ll admit, I’m a very convenient person for others to place blame on. It’s hard to tell sometimes isn’t it? A meeting between strangers. The normal events in the course of a day. The exceptions. Was it all merely happenstance? Or maybe, just maybe someone wanted you to be there, to meet that stranger, to do your normal activities and then make your exception. Maybe somehow, someway they conspired so that events would be exactly so. It’s convenient right? With the possibility of someone pulling your strings, how easy is it to blame them for your every misery and transgression? Say, have you considered the possibility that you’re not standing here threatening me because you want to? Maybe you’re here because I wanted you to be here.”

“Is that a confession?”

Izaya laughed. Of course he would take it that way. “Not at all, but it’s not something I could prove myself innocent in. However, Hisano-san’s disappearance is another thing altogether.”

The man was on the edge of losing his patience again, his mouth a tight, unhappy line. “You know what happened.” It wasn’t a question. “Tell me.”

Izaya leaned back against the wall, more to alleviate the pain he was feeling in his ribs than showing a lack of intimidation, but the man didn’t have to know that. “Of course I know. But don’t think I’m going to tell you for free. Information is my trade, after all.”

The man breathed heavily through his nose, and for the first time Izaya noticed the swelling around his eyes. The man grit his teeth, before shaking his head. “You really don’t care at all do you? You don’t give a damn that Hisano is dead. Murdered.”

The accusation caught Izaya by surprise, and he straightened from his lean against the wall. Truth was, he never really thought about it, not passed the loss of a valuable source of information, information he could have desperately used given the current state of affairs.

Izaya found he couldn’t say anything.

The man let out a humorless laugh. “To think she wanted to help someone like you, even convinced the leader to give you what you wanted. I truly hope that her death was unrelated to you as you say, because if it wasn’t, if she bled and died for you in any way when you don’t even give a rat’s ass about her…”

Izaya could lie, but he didn’t see the point. Up until very recently, Izaya couldn’t be bothered to care for any one individual, and that included Hisano Amagi. He wondered, very briefly, that if Hisano had still been around, that could have changed. It was unpleasant really, this feeling of guilt.

“Fine,” the man said. “We’ll exchange information. You tell me what you know about Hisano. What do you want in exchange?”

Izaya didn’t hesitate for a moment. “I want you to tell me what you and your kind know about souls.”

The question gave the man pause. “Why would you want to know about..?”

Then he looked, really looked at Izaya for a moment. “Well, that would do it I guess.”

“Is it obvious to you?”

“Not really, but once you get the idea to look you can’t miss it. You are in some serious shit.”

“I hope that means you know something.”

“Honestly, I don’t think I know anything that’ll be of use to you.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Izaya handed the picture of a young Hisano back to the man, who took it with suddenly careful hands. “You were lovers, weren’t you?”

The man studied the picture for a moment. “A long, long time ago. I loved her the moment I saw her.”

And still did apparently, despite the grey hair and the wrinkled skin, the many years they must have been apart. Izaya watched the man looking at the picture. Was theirs close, he wondered. Close to a love above all others.

Izaya was feeling charitable, so he started the exchange. “Initially, I had suspected that Hisano-san’s disappearance was related to the…circumstances that led me to have this condition. However, the length of her disappearance, the state of her body when it was found. It was definitely unrelated. And in this case, unrelated means perfectly solvable.” Izaya took out his phone from his jacket pocket. “Give me your e-mail address.”

“What?”

“Don’t you want to know what your guy looks like? It’s not like you called and made an appointment, I didn’t have the opportunity to get a file folder ready for you.”

After the man, and he had a name for him now, took out his phone and gave him his e-mail address, Izaya immediately sent him a picture of Gyousei Arakaki, along with most of the information he had gathered on the man.

“His name is Gyousei Arakaki. He’s a professional hitman. An acquaintance of mine who happens to share the profession revealed to me that Gyousei has been out of work for quite a while now. Is even considering calling it quits and making an honest living.”

“Did someone…did someone hire him to kill her?”

Izaya shook his head. “I wonder if that would have been preferable for you. No. Gyousei was not hired to kill Hisano-san.”

“Then why?”

“Why do human beings do anything? Because he wanted to. Because she was weak and alone and walking in the dark. Because it would be easy. Because he could. I don’t know what kind of answer you’re looking for, but I know people very, very well. And this one? After going so long without? I’m sorry to say it was nothing but a random thrill.”

The man, now known as Taiki Oshiro and never quite just a man to begin with, stood silent, looking over the pictures and documents Izaya sent him online with his phone. “This address…”

“Yes.”

Taiki looked up, his odd yellow eyes finding Izaya’s. “You do know what I’m going to do with this information, don’t you? Aren’t you supposed to be a lover of humans? Or at the very least, prefer them to someone like me?”

Izaya shrugged. “Do you really think that you’re the first person I’ve supplied with information like this?”

“Oh, I’m sure I’m definitely not the first ‘person,’ however…”

Izaya was getting a little impatient. This was not what he wanted to talk about. “It’s my turn to ask questions now. Obviously, you know that my soul is gone. Can I get it back?”

Taiki considered him for a moment. “The human soul is a fragile thing. I’m not anywhere close to being an expert, but from what I understand, a human soul could no more survive outside of its human body than a fish could survive out of water, flapping on the ground in its death throes.”

Izaya took a moment. “If a soul is…dead, what would be the point in someone keeping it?”

“Oh, I’m sure there is plenty of reason. Despite its fragility, a soul is a powerful thing, even dead. I’m sure it has its uses.”

“But you don’t know for sure?”

Taiki shrugged. “Like I said, I’m no expert.”

“To your knowledge, what manner of being could steal a soul?”

“None.”

Izaya glared at him.

“I’m serious. I don’t know of any apparition that could just straight up steal a soul on its own. Something like that would take a significant amount of preparation, and an extremely powerful ritual. The business of souls…most would never attempt it. It’s almost taboo. I meant it when I said you were in some serious shit. This is not the kind of thing that happens everyday. Maybe if you gave me a little information about what happened…”

Izaya weighed his options. Just how desperate was he? While he was feeling pretty confident about winning the ‘game,’ he was almost positive that there was more to it, a trap door just waiting for him to take a fall through. After thinking briefly, he decided to disclose a bit of what happened that night four months ago.

“Hmmm.” Taiki crossed his arms, contemplating. “You know, part of what he told you about finding someone to love above all others, about getting half of their soul…it seems familiar to me, somehow. But I can’t place where I heard it.”

Izaya hoped that meant that it was true. That he had a chance. By the look Taiki was giving him, it was obvious that he thought Izaya stood no chance at all, especially after his observations about Hisano and his lack of emotional ties.

It didn’t matter. Izaya’s ribs were bound and aching, and it didn’t matter at all. That was reassurance enough.

 

 

Celty, in Shizuo’s opinion, was spending way too much time with Shinra. In fact, she was spending so much time with Shinra that she managed to catch his crazy. Shinra was a menace that needed to be placed in quarantine so as not to infect the minds of the rest of the population. And clearly, the man was completely insane, because how, how, how could he think what he thought, and why in the world would he talk about it with Celty enough to give her ideas?

Shizuo was smoking away his stress, taking a casual stroll through Ikebukuro.

When Celty had said that to him, Shizuo’s brain had stopped. It literally stuttered to a halt, and for a few moments no one was home. Shizuo was out smoking. And when he got back to himself he was so dumbfounded he couldn’t even form words, and had to settle for making a half shocked half angry noise that had Celty shaking her helmet and putting an arm on his shoulder. _Forget I said anything. It was just a silly thought._

But still. He could not shake her words.

_I thought it would have been you._

He didn’t understand. How could anyone, let alone the people that knew him the best, think that? He wondered what Kasuka would say. The thought of finding out scared him.

_I thought it would have been you._

It was maddening. The idea that if the impossible would happen, if the flea were capable of establishing a genuine relationship, it would have been with him.

_I thought it would have been you._

The idea that Shizuo would have been the exception. The idea that it would have been Shizuo who had unearthed Izaya’s humanity.

Shizuo could not stop smoking, and he wasn’t sleeping so well either. Yes, Shinra definitely needed to be quarantined. For the good of the world.

Shizuo was so lost in his thoughts that he recognized almost too late a familiar scent, and he immediately caught sight of a familiar fur trimmed jacket walking next to an equally familiar beanie.

His troubled mind got caught in a moment of absolute panic. He wanted to run, but if he did than they would immediately notice, and for whatever reason, they absolutely could not notice him.

In a move of desperation, he tossed his cigarette and then ducked to the side, diving into a nearby bush. And somehow, someway, of course that wasn’t the strangest thing that could possibly happen. Of course the strongest man in Ikebukuro hiding pathetically in a bush couldn’t be the end of it.

As it turns out, the bush was already occupied. Sitting next to him, smiling sheepishly, was Erika Karisawa. As bizarre as the current situation was, there seemed to be an unspoken agreement. No one talked until Kadota and the louse were moving out of hearing range.

Erika was smiling like a fool as she peered through the brush as Kadota and Izaya walked by, looking at Shizuo like she had just won the lottery.

“Shizu-shizu, this is one place I thought I’d never run into you.”

“I shouldn’t ask, I really shouldn’t, but I’m going to ask anyway. What are you doing in here Karisawa?”

“I was watching you.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I wanted to ask you something, but you seemed like you were in a really bad mood, so I was waiting for a better opportunity. I was going to strike when the time was right.”

“…Right, I’m getting out of this bush.”

“Wait! Aren’t you going to let me ask you?” Erika latched onto his arm as he moved to get up. It took every ounce of his willpower not to send her flying. Her and the bush.

“Fine. Ask me.”

“Come with us.” Erika said.

“Huh?”

“We’re all getting together a week from now. We’re going to go see the Christmas illuminations in Shinjuku Terrace. You should come.”

Shizuo knew exactly who she meant by ‘we’. “Absolutely not. Now let go of my arm.”

“Come on, just hear me out. Don’t you think it’s a good opportunity? You’re always going on about how much you hate violence, so how about doing something that has a good possibility of reducing your inclination to break things.”

“Or increase it, more likely.”

“You’re wrong.” Erika looked away for a moment, before settling her gaze back on him. “Just come okay. If you come, then maybe you’ll be able to notice what the rest of us have noticed. Just think about it ok?”

Having said her fill, Erika let go of his arm and beat a hasty retreat, and Shizuo seriously considered throwing the bush at her. In the end he threw the bush at some guy who was making kissy sounds at Shizuo, having witnessed both Erika and Shizuo exit the bush.

That night, before Shizuo fell asleep he could have sworn he heard Junko talking at him in a very frustrated tone of voice. Yes. The Shinra contagion was definitely spreading.


End file.
